Breakfast With Bristol24/7: Doug Hobbs

Doug Hobbs has been in the business of barnets for 45 years, and his biggest legacy, The Hobbs Show, is set to take to the stage next month for what could be the last time ever. Meena Alexander meets him for a drink in the salon where it all started. 

Doug Hobbs cuts a fine figure in a buttoned-up shirt and fitted cardigan as he opens the glass door of his salon to greet me with open arms, a half-eaten bacon sandwich in one hand.

“Sorry, I was starving,” he smirks, his eyes immediately drawn to my hair, which I instantly think I should’ve done something a little more interesting with.

He ushers me through an achingly stylish room filled with chairs and mirrors down to a cafe-bar looking out onto a lush garden – the last thing I expected to see wedged between the higgledy-piggledy buildings of Park Row and Park Street. “My hobby,” he explains.

It’s hard to imagine a person better-suited to their surroundings than Doug is to Hobbs Salon – the quirky mix of colours, mismatched frames and varnished wood all scream effortless cool, but with a perfectionist edge.

“I’m a bit of a control freak,” the hairdresser of 45 years admits. “I mean, obviously I let the experts do their thing when it comes to my show. The dancers know dance, the singers do what they do best – but I know hair.”

He is, of course, referring to the imminent Hobbs Show happening at Brunel’s Old Station on February 6, an evening of creativity and glamour that has become a Bristol institution and attracted numerous talented models, artists, dancers and musicians since its conception back in 1996.

Ever the impressive spectacle, the 2016 show is set to be a festival of performance, live music and clothing from some of the city’s most respected creatives – but after 20 years, it may well mark the end of an era.

“This year is probably going to be my last,” Doug tells me with a tinge of sadness. “The show costs around £50,000 to put on so it really relies on sponsorship and generosity. People are eager to get involved because it’s a fundraiser but it’s getting very difficult.”

Following the loss of his 11-month-old son to meningitis back in 1976, Doug has been a staunch supporter of the Meningitis Research Foundation for many years, with all profits made from The Hobbs Show going towards important research and raising awareness.

Although the show was originally thought up during his first year as a salon owner to be a platform for the talents of his team, Doug is adamant that it never be called a hair show in his presence: “It’s so much more than that, and a hair show sounds so dull. I wouldn’t go to one. I would go to a charitable celebration of Bristol’s fashion and culture, with some good hair thrown in, though,” he winks.

An easy-going guy with a tongue-in-cheek comment for every question, the one thing Doug does not joke about is a good cut and colour.

“Hair is a lifestyle,” he says, without batting an eyelid. “It’s about how you carry yourself. When I’m doing someone’s hair we talk about what they do for a living, how they’re feeling. Only then do we know what will work and what won’t.”

There’s little doubt about Doug’s authority on hairdressing – a business he dipped his toe in at the age of 15 and hasn’t left since. “I played football for Bristol Rovers when I was at school, but the thing I really loved was art and fashion, I’ve always loved fashion. I think I ended up working in a salon because of the creativity and because I felt comfortable there. I used to go to the hairdresser’s with my mum as a kid and it just made me feel relaxed, and I used to babysit a girl who always wanted me to brush her hair. I found it quite therapeutic.”

His eyes drift back out to the busy little garden as he reminisces on his younger years, getting lost in nostalgia for a moment. “I’ve never looked back and been proud of what I’ve done because I’ve always been thinking about the next thing, but now I’m getting older I’m starting to appreciate it a bit more.”

The reflective moment is fleeting however, as he swiftly snaps himself out of it. “Right, do you like beetroot?” he asks me.

The next thing I know, he’s out among the plants, wrestling a pitchfork into the mud. Not quite the roots I was hoping he would help me with – but a lovely gesture all the same.

Illustration by Harry Morgan 

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