“Sensory-friendly” haircut: what is it and why is it important?

The majority of people have no idea what I mean when I say I’m a sensory-friendly hairstylist.
Some take a guess: “Do you dim the lights and hand them a fidget toy?” Others may have heard of it in passing, but don’t understand why it’s necessary. A few understand the concept and recognize it as a helpful alternative.

But the truth is, the people who fully grasp the importance of sensory-friendly haircuts are usually those who’ve experienced the trauma of traditional ones firsthand.

What’s heartbreaking is how unaware most people are of the common practices still used in the salon industry today, and the way autistic individuals, especially children, are often treated in these spaces.

Once I started working in early behavioral intervention, the connection between autism and haircut aversion became very clear, very quickly. Child after child was presenting with similar struggles around grooming. And as they got older, those struggles followed them right into the salon chair.

It would be easy to blame sensory processing differences. They’re autistic, that’s why they can’t handle haircuts, right?

But I challenged that.

I’ve seen plenty of kids make progress with self-grooming. In the clinic, we were able to adjust the environment to meet each child’s individual needs, and it worked. So what if the problem wasn’t the child? What if the solution wasn’t to change them... but to change the approach?

So I tried just that.

Rather than expecting my clients to adapt, I adapted my methods to support them. I began unlearning much of what I was taught in cosmetology school, training that was designed entirely with neurotypical clients in mind, and stayed open to what a haircut could look like when we center the individual.

And what I found?

The fault lies with a system that prioritizes compliance over compassion.

When you strip away expectations, you make space for trust and connection. Suddenly, a haircut doesn’t have to look one way. Sometimes, it means 10 seconds of clippers and a 10-minute break. Sometimes, it means ditching the cape because the sensation is too overwhelming, and asking mom to gently catch the hair instead. Sometimes, the haircut happens on a bench, then the floor, then standing up, then back to the bench again.

Trust is built through consistency, clear communication, and a willingness to listen. Every step is explained. Advocacy is modeled and encouraged. Nothing is forced.

One of my clients was so afraid of clippers that just seeing them caused a meltdown. It would’ve been easy to assume he just hated the loud noise. But when I dug deeper, I learned that in a previous salon, he had been strapped into a chair and forcibly shaved. His autonomy was taken away. Of course he was terrified. I would be, too.

That stylist had other clients waiting, I'm sure. Their priority was to get the haircut done because in a traditional salon, we’re taught “Time is money”. But at what cost?

So when this client came to the first appointment, I kept all my tools out of sight. We started with pretend shears, which opened the door to a scissor-only haircut. I followed his lead. Eventually, he asked to see the real clippers. I let him hold them. I showed him how they worked. I turned them on and touched them to my own arm so he could see they were safe.

In time, he asked me to use them. He wanted me to use them.

And not only did he tolerate the haircut, he enjoyed it. He gave feedback. He was engaged. He left happy and whole.

A haircut should never leave someone feeling violated or afraid.
And it doesn’t take anything radical to prevent that. Just curiosity. Patience. A genuine desire to understand.

I used to be one of the people who didn’t know, until one of my earliest clients opened my eyes.

Once I saw the harm being done, I couldn’t look away.
Now, I’m on a mission to not only offer a safe and dignified alternative, but to raise awareness of the systemic issues that are still hurting some of the most vulnerable members of our community.

I’ve seen firsthand that there’s a different way, and it’s time we stop treating trauma as an acceptable price to pay for a haircut.