I cut out from work early yesterday to hit up a hair appointment. The girl I've been seeing for the last 18 months has moved on from Gene Juarez and in her place I scheduled an open appointment with a new stylist.
Meeting a new hair stylist always feels like a first date. I have certain criteria that a stylist must meet in order for drinks to lead to dinner. For instance, I can't see a short haired stylist... under any circumstances. I don't trust stylists with short hair. My experience has been that every hairstylist with the latest Victoria Beckham bob is absolutely convinced that I should to the same. I have to explicitly state that I am a long haired girl. I can't do short hair... I tried it once and it was awkward. I have a very round face with gigant pumpkin sized cheeks. Short hair accentuates that and it's not a good look.
I feel my second requirement is reasonable. The stylist has to be self styled in an acceptable manner. I remember being given a gift certificate to a Redmond salon with a snazzy name. I walked into the salon and saw my proposed stylist with a forehead full of '80's jumbo curling iron styled bangs I pivoted and walked out the exit. This may seem harsh and rude but saving $70 on a haircut is not worth a forehead full of hairsprayed bangs or a perm of any kind!
My third requirment is that my hairstylist can not look like she moonlights at any seedy establishments including tatoo parlors, strip clubs, and/or punk rock venues. I know this sounds a little WASPy but it has less to do with those establishments and more to do with personal preference. I'm a little too J. Crew to pull of any types of spikes, neon colors, or anything involving a razor. Plus, I believe my job may frown.
My stylist yesterday passed the three preliminary checkpoints in that she appeared normal. We discussed the cut I was looking for and we decided to move on from drinks and go to dinner - metaphorically speaking. 8 inches later I had fresh, fun, and healthy hair. Loved it!
But.... We were short on time and when she went to style it, she started by taking pieces of my hair and twisting it into dreadlocks circa early 2000 Jennifer Anniston at the Oscar's with a very unshaven Brad Pitt. I became nervous. In my head I was questioning why a discussion did not take place first. These dreadlocks were an awfully broad assumption for our first date... It was as if we had been dating for years and she thought it would be fun to change it up. This felt like the equivolant of being introduced to the waiter as the Girlfriend on the first date!
As the frizz on my head grew and grew, my face began to twitch slightly and I found myself chewing on my lip wanting to speak up but being afraid of coming across as difficult. All of a sudden out of no where my knight with shiny scissors interviened and offered to help. She was an older woman who was probably in her 40's. She was dressed in a simple skirt with a flower patter and a white dress covered with a black vest. She looked like she could be a kindergarten teacher. Her hair was cut a little below shoulder length and she had faint highlights. Whatever styling she had to offer would at least be in the realm of normal. She got to work defrizzing the golden halo that had grown around my forehead. While she was working she asked me questions about my life and talked about her children. I started to become more comfortable. She put away the god awful diffuser and brought out the curling iron. I thought thank goodness, a tool my hair responds to. Gone were the promises of heavily textured beach hair and my fears this was something more appropriate for Hemp Fest and in came the casual wavy curls.
Perfect - and that is how I met my new stylist!