ring her hair cut appointment. At an attractive 47 years of age, with teenage children and married to a well-respected doctor, she had been coming to me for over a year for “trims.” Her straight, highlighted, shoulder-length hair, strewn with a wealth of silver, was generally suspended away from her face in a headband. Think early Hillary Clinton. She had worn her hair the same since college. At every appointment, she would ask my opinion of what I thought would look best on her. Consistently I told her a softly graduated and angled bob below her jaw line would be most attractive and more appropriate. To which she would look at me in horror until I would suggest, as an option, a trim.
She walked in that fatal day exclaiming she was ready. She appeared full of confidence, walking tall. She was woman, hear her roar, and she was going to cut her hair! We agreed to keep it long enough to cover her neckline, inverted to below the chin. She was shown the length, where it would be cut and agreed. But, with one snip of the scissors she began to hyperventilate.
“Oh my God, oh my God… What did you do? Let me feel it. Oh! Oh no!” she laughed nervously.
“I’m not laughing, because I think it’s funny, I’m laughing so I don’t cry.”
(Stunned hairdresser, clients’ attention drawn to the scene. Increased drama.)
“Oh my God… How long does it take to grow back?”
“About a half an inch a month,” I answered.
“Oh my. Oh my. Lets see…(counting on fingers) July, August, September, October… Oh my God, do you know where they sell g ood wigs? I’m sorry. I know I agreed. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Oh my God, what did I do? My children are going to say I look like a basketball. What did I do? What did I DO?”
“Carol! It’s not a nuclear holocaust, it’s a haircut!”
“It’s only a haircut to you. You didn’t used to be young and thin!”
BINGO!
After I was finished styling her hair (the air did not come out of that blow dryer fast enough) she stood up, braced herself against the wall, and, as the rest of the salon pretended not to watch, she took several deep-cleansing breaths. Her reaction was a bit theatrical perhaps, but many can relate. Hair is a big deal. It’s what people notice. It’s what people comment on. It speaks loudest about where you are in your life, how you are feeling, whether things are going well and, as apparently was the case with my client, when they are not.
Women spend countless hours and bend their b udget to make their hair into something that reflects them best. Finding the right hairdresser and the right look for you is often worth the extra effort.
In other words... call the salon at 612 341 0404 and book a haircut with me. In the end it's cheaper than therapy.
