From the British Hairdresser Awards - The smell hit as you walked through the door of the Grosvenor House Hotel. A pungently sweet, almost asphyxiating chemical cloud. A cocktail mixed in the laboratories of L'Oréal, Wella and Schwarzkopf.

The event was the British Hairdressing Awards. Norton, the patron saint of hairdressers, was host. More than 2,000 hairdressers were screaming, sobbing and sounding klaxons. Your intrepid correspondent was, frankly, way out of his depth.

Norton told the women in the audience that they had scrubbed up beautifully. “Makes you almost want to be a straight man.” Then he recalled the scenes of wild inebriation at last year's event, noting: “You're not afraid of the taste of wine, are you?” He imagined unfortunate people going to the nation's salons for a haircut the next morning and finding stylists “slipping in your own vomit, shouting ‘I'm an award-winner!'”

The hairdressers hollered and hooted and we were off into an evening of glitz, outlandish edifices of hair - a woman seemingly attached to the world's biggest fur ball, a fringe that completely covered the eyes - and a torrent of tears as winners sought to outdo each other in a style of emotional acceptance speech known as the Gwyneth Paltrow.

The occasions when sentences did not contain “incredible” and “amazing” were those when the trembling winners were too overwhelmed to form words.

And good for them. British hairdressers have a lot to celebrate. The UK hairdressing sector has been booming: it leads the world in creativity, attracts the leading talents and fascinates the rest of the world (in a good way). Over the past decade the industry has expanded so enormously that it has been unable to keep up with demand. There is a huge shortage of hairdressers.

Anyone facing a credit crunch-enforced career change could do worse than consider picking up a pair of scissors and training for one of the 37,000 vacancies waiting to be filled. Salon managers sluicing back champagne talked of 21-year-old employees earning £40,000 a year.

The UK are, in short, a nation obsessed with our hair.

As one who tends to have his mop cut only when it is beginning to impair his ability to walk down the street without bumping into lampposts, then spends £12 visiting the local barber (and regards that as rather steep), I had no idea that there was this national love affair going on until I started to look into the subject. But it's true.

Let me ask you a question.Who do you think spends the most on their hair, British women or French women? Call me ungallant if you must, but I assumed that it would be the chic French. For all their innumerable, incomparable qualities, fabulous hair is not the first thing that pops into your head when you mention British women.

But the reality, ladies, is that you greatly outspend the French when it comes to tending your tresses, forking out 2 per cent of your annual spending while the French spend 1.5 per cent. Indeed, women of Britain, you are almost as vain as your menfolk.

Almost, but not quite. For an even more intriguing trend is that British men now go to the hairdresser more often than women do. On average, blokes go almost nine times a year while women make seven visits to a salon. And there are - get this - a million men in Britain who colour their hair. A million.

The origins of Britain's modern-day love affair with hairstyling

can be traced to Vidal Sassoon, the first superstar hairdresser. In the 1960s Sassoon put the style into hairstyle by creating geometric cuts and popularising the bob with the “Nancy Kwan”, a style he created for the actress. The British hairdresser was a trailblazer in the way that he built a global business of salons and haircare products. John Frieda, who sold his brand to the Japanese Kao Corp for £260 million;

Toni and Guy, who have 231 salons in the UK and 171 abroad; Nicky Clarke; Charles Worthington and Trevor Sorbie are heirs to the Sassoon legacy, along with British hairdressing stars of the catwalk shows such as Guido Palau, Eugene Souleiman and Sam McKnight.

“Vidal Sassoon was the godfather of the modern hairdressing world,” says Martin Smith, managing director of L'Oréal's professional division. “From him stemmed all these iconic names that are worldwide brand names in their own right. Vidal put British hairdressing on the map.”

Smith is a New Zealander working for a French company.

He says that the world looks to Britain for its leading hairdressers. He can think of only two famous French hairdressers and one of those died recently. “Then you can't think of anyone else. At Milan and Paris (the fashion shows) it's British hairdressers.

We have a cultural melting pot that brings a lot of openness in terms of creative spirit. There's a real attitude of knowing when to conform, when to break all the rules. There's an unashamed attitude towards rebellion reflected through clothing, through music, through hairstyles, hairdressers, make-up. Football, too, influences men's perception of grooming. A million guys in the UK colour their hair. Who would have thought?”

Akin Konizi, of the hob salon group, who was crowned Hairdresser of the Year last week for a set of styles influenced by the Sixties and Seventies, says: “We are an island. We do it our own way. In Europe the boundaries get blurred. The Italians borrow from the French, the French from the Germans. We come up with our own ideas and take them as far as they can go.”

Angelo Seminara, the previous winner, came to England 13 years ago, when he was 23, from Italy, where he had started as a barber. He found Italian women unadventurous in matters follicular. “When I saw the work from this country I thought, these guys are amazing.” He came to work with Trevor Sorbie at his salon in Covent Garden and is now international creative director. He says something rather startling: “Britain has the best hair. Really fine and silky, nice tone.”

As Mica Paris crooned on stage, the awards ceremony throng had no doubt that they were the best. “There are very few things where Britain is still No 1,” says Jon Macleod of Paterson SA, an Edinburgh chain of salons. “We've had it with cars, we've had it with sport.” There are 31,000 hair salons in Britain and the industry employs 200,000 people, up from 155,000 in 1991.

British women spend an average of £35 when they have their hair cut, and cough up an average of £55 for colour. Women over 65 go to the salon once a month but younger women go much less often, bringing the average down to seven visits a year. In 2000 the average number of visits was ten.

The reason for this drop in frequency of visits is that younger women are spending more on colour and more adventurous styles. They like to treat themselves but can't afford to do that as often. They are busier and are spending more on products to maintain their own hair. Also, Smith says, better-trained hairdressers “are giving consumers better colour and a better cut that lasts longer”.

This year L'Oréal's research found that men were,

for the first time, going to salons more often than women. “It's a turning point,” says Smith. “Role models have given young guys the confidence to look after themselves and show that they are proud of their grooming habits.

It's really interesting. David Beckham, when he went really short, made it OK to have thinning hair. If you have thinning hair, keep it short - it looks smart. The influence of the Beckhams and the Clive Owens and the George Clooneys is unbelievable.” Yet despite the stars of the hair world, the TV shows and the countless magazines, there is a feeling that the hairdressing industry has some way to go to attract all the talent it requires. Demand has outstripped supply.

According to Habia, the body that sets standards for hair and beauty training qualifications, the industry has grown rapidly but the quality of some trainees has not been up to scratch, and retaining staff can be difficult.

Lisa Shepherd, who has four salons in Birmingham and is one of only three women to have won Hairdresser of the Year, points out that many women leave to have children. Other talented hairdressers go abroad. “There's a tendency that any Brit who says they want to work overseas will be snapped up,” says Alan Goldsbro, the chief executive of Habia.

There is still sometimes a stigma attached to hairdressing, based on the stereotype of the girl with few qualifications who leaves school at 16 and goes to work in a salon. Shepherd went into the business only because she fancied a boy who was taking a hairdressing course at her local college.

She says that the training is getting better and that television programmes and media coverage are improving the standing of hairdressers, but more needs to be done to sell hairdressing as a skilled profession. “Re-educating the general public and young people won't happen overnight.”

“People haven't thought of hairdressing as a profession,”

says Jean-Noel DeJeukem, who runs a foundation course in salon management at the University of Greenwich that is one of several courses that aim to make the business more attractive to ambitious people. He has a doctorate in hospitality, a background in haute cuisine and says that hairdressing is where the hospitality industry - particularly the restaurant business - was a few years ago. “Now chefs are revered, as they always have been in France.”

One of his students, Chantelle Abbott, 23, wants to be trained to a level where she can open her own franchise of the salon where she works in Guildford, Surrey. She dropped out of a university business management course to go into hairdressing. “I don't want to have to work my way up in a business,” she says. “I want to come out with a degree in salon management and be able to start things off myself.”

Vijy Sangar, 27, already has his own small salon but is taking the course because he claims to suffer from a problem common among hairdressers: “I'm very good at hair but not at running the salon,” he says. “I've got no management skills.” Despite the expansion of big chains, the vast majority of salons are small businesses.

As an increasing volume of champagne flows around us at the Grosvenor House and the first revellers start to stagger, Shepherd waxes follicle: “I don't think there is any other profession that in 30 minutes, for fifty quid, will give a girl who walks in with her shoulders down, without the confidence to have a conversation, a cut or a bit of colour so she'll walk out like a goddess.”

Will they keep spending that money during a recession, though? Andrew Phouli, co-founder and chairman of Rush, is bullish. The company had 19 salons this time last year, now has 34 and plans to open 35 more next year and the year after, and 50 the year after that.

“Business is very good,” he says. “People need to get their hair cut. They want to feel good.”

Shepherd expects that some customers will come in every six to eight weeks instead of every four. “But I don't think women will walk around with roots,” she says. “They'd rather not eat.”

Short on top and forget the sushi

How much self-confidence does a haircut from a top stylist give you? I took my thatch to Angelo Seminara, last year's Hairdresser of the Year and a winner of many other awards. He would normally charge £125 for the cut that he gave me in Trevor Sorbie's bustling salon in Covent Garden. That's more than a 1,000 per cent increase on what I pay my Polish barber.

Angelo is in constant demand from customers at the salon, for shoots and to give demonstrations around the world, often to audiences of several hundred hairdressers. His celebrity clients include Gisele Bündchen, Sophie Dahl, Denise van Outen and Ringo Starr.

I suggest that he hasn't seen a mop quite like mine for a while.

He politely says that it is merely “a little bit big”. Ah, these top hairdressers. Making you feel good before they have even started.

“What motivates me is to create avant-garde hairstyles,” he says ominously. One model in his set for the awards had hair that appeared to be frozen in a 3ft wave. He also invented a style called “sushi”, an extraordinary combination of elaborate layering and colouring. Fortunately, he says that the style is artwork “ and not everybody wants to wear a piece of art”. He will just layer my hair and tidy it up a little.

What about my growing bald spot? that threatens to turn into a monk's tonsure? “If you were an actor there are things you can do, like thickening spray. But as you get older...” he shrugs.

The girl who washes my hair gives a sensational head massage and the appeal of a top salon begins to grow. Angelo says that he can complete a haircut in half an hour but generally takes an hour. Customers like to have a chat and to enjoy the whole experience.

“I'm a hairdresser because it gives me the chance to create something amazing,” he says. “It's great to see people go home happy.”

My hair has never really had any style and I haven't combed it in decades. Angelo gives me a loose side-parting, explaining that this is the way it naturally falls. Revolutionary. It has a stubborn kink that no comb can tame. Angelo calls this “character, personality. It's classic hair”. Boy, can he charm. I'm getting an idea of why women form such bonds with their hairdressers.

I brace myself for him to stick a load of gunk in my hair, but no. “I like really clean hair,” he says.

After a normal trip to the barber I look shorn. But Angelo is adamant that “you shouldn't look too much like you've been to the hairdresser”. No clippers for the back of the neck here, though I can see that I definitely had a haircut. It is layered and feels smoother, softer. Angelo has even disguised my bald spot a bit. But when I turn up in the office a colleague says: “Have you actually had a haircut?”

Now I understand the key to the role of a successful hairdressers. It's not to make you look better, because often people don't notice. It's to make you feel better. And that is an art just ask any hairdresser