When I get a haircut, a real haircut, the pile on the floor looks like some kind of sleeping blonde creature. It may have been shiny, desirable locks a few minutes ago, but hair on the floor looks tousled and dead, and I never regret losing it when I see salon employees sweeping it into a dustpan.
I had been thinking about doing something drastic with my hair for awhile, after over a decade of various tame, pretty bobs. I was at the gym this week when I made up my mind.
I put my thick, straight hair into a ponytail because I was hot and sweaty. Then I took it out of the pony tail because I hate lying down to bench-press and feeling the knob of my ponytail at the back of my head. I looked around the gym at the other women’s damp, straggling ponytails. None of the men were paying the slightest mind to their own hair.
I envied them. I called the salon the next morning.
I came close to cutting all my hair off a few years ago, when I tried a salon in the suburbs. I told the stylist I was thinking of cutting my hair short. He fingered my hair and grimaced into the mirror.
“Yeah, that’s not going to look good on you. Uh uh, it really won’t.”
Disappointed, I acquiesced. Those were pretty much the last words he spoke to me for the duration of the haircut. A young man in a pink dress came into the salon and parked himself behind my stylist’s station, and they discussed last night’s wild bachelorette party as if I was not sitting there. For variety, my stylist also wandered away for up to fifteen minutes at a time with no explanation or apology.
I didn’t go back.
That was all before I met Tenille at American Mortals on Walnut Street. When I came in this week, she was excited to lop off my hair and said it would be really cute. I let her get to work with very little direction.
She took pains to shape the haircut just right. We chatted about her recent engagement and just what it is that leads people to wear mullets, and whether they’re really aware of what they’re actually sporting (her theory is small mountain towns where everyone has been going to a single out-of-touch stylist since the 80’s).
I’m happy with my new hair. What do you think? Here’s a few photos to get you up to speed.