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15 July 2005 @ 10:50 pm
When I have a brand new hair-do....  
Brace yourselves:

I had my hair cut today.

Now, the last time I had my hair cut was by Jimmy, Kel's friend. He is AMAZING, and no mistake. Thing is, he's three hours away in Haverhill, MA. So, right before Faire last year (round about the end of July), Kel and I took a road trip. We went to see Jimmy, stayed overnight* in his astoundingly gorgeous three-story Victorian and spent the next day being cut and (in my case) coloured. He's an Aveda colour specialist. Yeah. In addition to being funny and smart and sarcastic, the man knows what the hell he's doing. But, here's the thing: prior to returning to him for our bi-annual salon day, my hair had been out of control. I couldn't take it anymore. I took scissors in hand and lopped off a few inches. Big. Mistake. It was worse than the time I told Jimmy that I just bought my shampoo at the grocery store according to what was on sale.

So, since then, I've not dared to lift scissors save to trim my bangs. I might have given in and gone to another, local, hairdresser - save for the everpresent and annoying psoriasis. I know it is a condition beyond my control, but I get embarassed when I have to tell a stylist that I have this affliction. I keep waiting for revulsion. Or pity.

What with the Wildwood sized wrench in our rehearsal schedule, there was no chance Kel and I could make a Jimmy-jaunt before Faire. So, I bit the bullet. I got the name of my sister-in-law's stylist, Julie. I made an appointment. And, today, I stepped into a new salon. The stylist Beth had recommended is the owner of the salon. She sat me down, took a look at my hair, and asked what I wanted. "Less hair," said I. She talked about my bangs - and she called them a fringe, which won my heart utterly - and whether they should be bold and blocky, or frame into the hair surrounding my face.

Then, she sent me off for a wash. Damned if I can recall the name of the woman who washed my hair, but oh! she was fantastic. Again, I warned her of my icky scalp. She spent a good fifteen minutes massaging and rinsing and combing through to loosen the psoriasis. She suggested things I might try at home to thin the plaques, and even offered an additional in-salon treatment, should I want to come in of an evening.

Once she'd finished combing me out, it was back to Julie's chair. She set in to cutting at once. On her stand was a pouch of scissors and combs that put me in mind of an archaeologist's tools. After a good ten minutes of cutting, she caught my eye in the mirror. "Sorry I'm not talking," she said, "but the first time I cut someone's hair, it's all about the hair. I just get in the zone. I promise I'll talk to you when I'm blow-drying."

I assured her that I was delighted that she was so focused on making my hair look good. There was a discussion on how I parted it - and again, I was impressed that she took time to figure out whether my habit of parting on the right was a good idea and WHY it might not be so. Then, we talked colour. "You're too young to have this much grey!" she exclaimed.

"My mom was grey well before my age," I told her. We chatted about what colours would look good on me. Frankly, I don't care if I look like the Snow Queen off season; when I play Marian, I can't have all that grey. I'm going for a colour next week. woohoo!

Julie cut and sprayed (with a mist of essential oils) and dried and trimmed and adjusted and considered. She commented that I had terrific hair (and you know, I rather do, grey and skin issues aside) and, as she tweaked, showed me things I could do with this new cut. She took bits of it and secured said bits with bobby pins for a fuller, touselled look. She talked about different ways to pull it back. And she was delighted with how happy I was with the new look. "I feel ten years younger!" I said.

"If you don't mind me asking," said Julie, "how old are you?

I told her. And I had the great good joy of seeing her surprise. She thought I was about 8-10 years younger than I am. I'll take that, thank you very much! "That's still a lot of grey." No kidding. So, semi-permanent colour next week and - gaspeth! - a trim in two months. Yep. I'm going to try to keep up with an actual hairstyle. Oh, and right before I left, Julie gave me explicit directions on how to trim my bangs, since I had confessed that I very likely would.

I need to call my sister-in-law tomorrow. She needs a big ol' thank you. I feel human again. Frell that: I feel almost pretty! (note to self: need 'pretty' icon, just in case such a thing should happen again)

*Kel and I ended up sharing a room and a bed. Last time we did this, it was in Jimmy's room, with french doors that opened onto a balcony and, within, a massive mirror carved from dark wood. Kel stood in front of it and said, in piping tones, "I want to see my parents!" And of course I double over, snorting. This time, we were in a guest room, but the bed was so freakin' tall!. We laughed and chatted and giggled and talked and snorted and tried to sleep, only to start the giggling anew. "Hmmm," said I, "I think I've figured out why Don gets so annoyed with us!" Which, of course, set us off again. Then, after sleep finally claimed us, we awoke to the rude surprise that the floor was astonishingly far away. And thus more giggles. Yeah. Hanging with Kel is always fun. We damned well find a way to make it so.
Ratesjul: Magic Peter Panratesjul on July 15th, 2005 09:33 pm (UTC)
*hugs* Sounds like you had fun.

And Kelly? You ARE pretty. :)
Fjordhopperfjordhopper on July 16th, 2005 01:33 pm (UTC)
I guess I'm not the only one, who gets her hair cut around twice a year, and then trims her bangs herself!!

Sounds like a great cut!
And, Holy Crap Woman, you aren't "almost pretty," you're beautiful! Always! I've never seen you, when I haven't thought that!!!
yami_shadows on July 16th, 2005 07:52 pm (UTC)
Pictures? *pleading eyes*
Ilena Ayalanetsearcher on July 17th, 2005 03:16 pm (UTC)
At least you don't need to curl them with a slate pencil
She talked about my bangs - and she called them a fringe, which won my heart utterly

The only place I've heard them called that was in the Little House books - when Laura decided to wear them and her Ma called them a "lunatic fringe".