Love, Exciting and New…

8 Jun

Just call me Julie. That’s right, that’s what I should (but don’t necessarily want to) be called today.

No, I haven’t succumbed to multiple personality disorder like Joanne Woodward in “The Three Faces of Eve”. I haven’t forsaken all of my identity to become subsumed into another completely different persona. No, the only thing that has happened to me is…

I got a haircut.

I have curly thick and unruly hair. What I asked for was a “flip” style that really works well with my hair and face. What I got was…


Yep. I could be a host of things today. Julie, your illustrious Cruise Director, a chicken, a duck, a plane. You name it. You see…today…my hair…can…FLY!

It all started out innocuously enough. I needed my roots touched up and thought that instead of my usual trek to the beauty supply shop I would pay someone to do it for me. I figured that it would be nice to start getting some more shape and texture cut into my hair so that by September it would look stunning for the wedding. My budget for the month already being shot on wedding deposits and such, I was tempted to go to Supercuts, but opted instead to try a salon on a tree-lined street with a lot of upscale shops and spas. My goal was to find a really relaxed hair styling place where there no gay men saying to me “Sweetheart what have you done to your hair?” and trying to sell me tons of expensive products. (Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against gay men, it’s just that this type of conversation is guilt-inducing to the extreme — and the last thing I need is more guilt trips in my life… And, as an aside, I also like to keep the hair products I use to a minimum.)

The first salon I walked into charged $75 for a cut. (I won’t mention how much their color treatments were, but just to give some idea, close to half of what I now pay in rent.) No way was I going to pay so much just for a few snips from a pair of scissors. (I don’t care that much about my hair.) So, I found a little salon down the road with a really nice Vietnamese lady, walked in and asked if she was free. She was, the price was right and the next thing I knew, I was in a chair with cape around my neck awaiting my hair color.

It was a leap of faith, because I really don’t trust anyone to cut my hair. The only person I liked who ‘got’ how my hair should be cut was my former neighbor (whom I dubbed ‘Dippy Neighbor Chick’). I could get an edgy cut, color and highlights from DNC for under $80 — unheard of anywhere, most of all LA. But, she did a great job and I was so sad to see her move away a year ago. Since then it’s been me, a pair of scissors, a layering tool from Japan and a bottle of color.

I have to say that I was taken by the experience. She was very meticulous, showing me pictures of haircuts, asking me what I wanted. I loved talking to her and hearing about her experiences. The way she shampooed my hair was wonderful, tender, and thorough. When I got back into the chair I watched her cut, snip and trim, carefully measuring to make certain things were even. Wet the cut looked fine. But then she took out the blow-dryer and…

My hair exploded! (Figuratively, of course.)

I thought at first that it was one of those important-first-step-secrets-of-styling that the people who charge the big bucks say they do (you, know, in order to charge the big bucks). I told myself that I would trust the hair-styling gods to take care of me and that I couldn’t leave the salon looking like I just walked out of a bad 80’s melodrama. As I was thinking all of this she handed me the mirror looking upon her work proudly and said…

Well, what do you think?

Shock. Horror. Sadness. What does one say in a time like this? I don’t think she misunderstood my English — flip and wings don’t really mean the same thing or even sound alike, after all. I was too stunned to do anything but gulp, pay, and hope that my bobby pins were still lodged somewhere in my bag.

As I walked down the street, I realized that this situation called for the one thing I was avoiding — product. So, off I headed to the Aveda salon nearby. When I walked in, I could see the girl at the desk looking me over and turning up her nose, peering at me around her desk as I was searching for some gel. Behind her was the stylist giving a middle-aged woman with dark roots a Connie Chung-style haircut, waxing on about the products she should use in her hair, and I as I plunked down my money for some de-poofing hair gel, I thought…

Well, now…maybe wings aren’t so bad after all!


8 Responses to “Love, Exciting and New…”

  1. Rina June 8, 2007 at 5:25 pm #

    I really enjoyed reading this post, though I totally feel for you! I’d be too devastated to write anything so witty about it. Trusting to the hair gods is dangerous business, isn’t it? Nowadays I trek ninety minutes on public transit to the outer Richmond in SF to go to my sister’s stylist — an older Chinese guy named Plato. His technique is impeccable, although I don’t spend enough time on my hair to make the most of it.

    Anyway: I’m sure the hair will settle down soon enough and, as always… it will grow out. 🙂

  2. knitplaywithfire June 8, 2007 at 5:52 pm #

    Curly hair is a funny thing. Have you checked out It is the place for us curly heads. And in all honesty, gay guys are the best ones to cut curly hair I have found. Did you even ask if the lady knew how to cut curly hair? I hope you find some one to cut it soon.

  3. Sacha June 8, 2007 at 10:44 pm #

    This is why I’m terrified of going to te hair stylist. Then again, it is only hair and will grow out again. 🙂

  4. myhobbyisyarn June 10, 2007 at 4:31 am #

    Oh, that sucks! How does it look now? I drive 3 1/2 hours to my sister’s house to get my hair done. She does a really good job. I figure with gas money, even though she doesn’t charge me, it’s still enough. I had an experience like yours though, and I haven’t trusted anyone else since.

  5. geckogrrl June 11, 2007 at 2:41 am # is really cool – some great ideas!

    The next day I woke up with helmet head. But, after washing and moisturizing my hair twice, I styled it and it looked pretty good. I think that she probably figured I’d style it myself. The cut itself wasn’t bad, it was just the way she finished it off.

    I liked the vibe in her shop and might go there again just to get a trim. But maybe for the next two months I might have to suck it up and go to a snooty salon, even though I really dislike doing so.

    BTW — I would totally drive 3 &1/2 miles for a good haircut — and I really hate driving! You’re so lucky, Joan!

  6. ruthsplace June 11, 2007 at 3:02 pm #

    Loved this post! The only thing missing is a picture lol My current hairdresser makes me feel guilty if I call in without having blow-dried and styled to the ends of the earth. Mind you he offered to put in free foils when he saw me out a few days after the last colour so I won’t complain.

  7. phoenix June 18, 2007 at 8:23 pm #

    Hee. I always lump visits to the hairdresser in the same category as visits to the dentist. Painful, but necessary for health and beauty. And better the next day.


  1. Blogiversary… A few of my favorite posts… « All In A Day’s…. - February 17, 2009

    […] Love — Exciting and New (in which I lament my Loveboat haircut) […]

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