March Hair

I've realized I've been in denial of needing a local hair dresser for awhile now. This fact has caused me great anxiety, I'm not going to lie. On some level I think I'm a hair dresser's dream: I'm loyal to the point of co-dependency.

I've been with Jerry since I was about 3 feet tall. I've only strayed three times in my decades of going to him. Once in junior high to a woman in his salon who did the trendy layers and triangle cut (God, what were we thinking in the 80's that your hair should go to one point down your spine?). Once a couple of years ago after I walked up to some random woman at Strut Your Mutt to get her fabulous hairdresser's name. And once because I lived in New Orleans and couldn't afford to fly home every 3 weeks for maintenance of my really short pixie cut. That is it. Jerry has always taken me back with open arms and a grin of flair that conveyed, "See I told you so. You will never find any one as fabulous as The Jerry. I am fabulous and I make you look fabulous."

I did manage to sneak a cut in with Jerry when I was home for Christmas, but its been 3 months since then and my bangs have been home-butchered long enough not to mention my highlights have roots that are almost down to my ears. I went in search of a new hair dude or dude-ette. I found that "Indianapolis Monthly" did a story on the best hair designers of the city. And with that I poured through my choices for another couple of weeks to ponder my decision. In the meantime, my anxiety about my hair transferred to Edgar.

I found his grooming experiments through angieslist.com. At first in the fall I took him to Good Dog Spa. He came back looking like a teddy bear with a military buzz cut so short you could see where he was nicked. I wrote a nasty review and we didn't go back. He also went back to his regular groomer, who is also the president of the Scottie association of Utah. She grumbled about how no one knew how to groom a Scottie and fixed him. However, he was getting shaggy like me. I went back to the list and found Heaven Scent Mobile Grooming. A girl about 19 with Bo Derek braids showed up with her mobile van that looked like a sexual predator's dream ride from the outside to cruise the neighborhood. It was large, tinted windows, but for the most part unremarkable.

Edgar took to her right away and was more than willing to go into the van. He needs some "stranger danger" work, I realize. Edgar came back with a shaved nose, another military buzz cut again with nicks and a tail that was untouched by the scissors. Huh. The worst part was this 19 year old kept criticizing me by clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth and waiving her pointer finger at me about things like what kind of food I gave him (although then admitted she ran out of treats and gave him Peanut Butter Captain Crunch.) I again, wrote up another review online and told Edgar he would never have to go back into the van. Needless to say, my hair anxiety was not dissipating.

I had an appointment with Jon Skinner. He was described as "The Shape Shifter" in the article. He just did a hair show in Chicago and it read that he was so hard to get into people would work their way up other stylists in his salon just to be on his client list. "My style has always been a precision cut, something strong-lined, with dimensional texturing."

I called telling them I had just moved and heard about Jon. I got a cancellation which I was then told I was quite lucky by the receptionist. I was so giddy I danced around the house. So, in I go at 10 AM on Tuesday.

"What I see is a very Vidal Sassoon look. Geometric, precise, with lots of movement. Strong bang, warm highlights. You'll love it." He said as he ran his fingers through my one length long hair. Sassoon? As in the 80's Sassoon? "Sassoon is really back with a strong presence." And he went on to describe how he watched Angus Mitchell, Paul's son, do a demonstration in Chicago where he cut a chunk out of his finger and bled like a stuck pig on stage.

After the gourmet coffee, fun magazines, and attentive staff I began to feel more at ease. I listened to him talk with his other employees about problems surrounding running a salon. Dirty color bowls, cleaning up after people, inventory of products, "borrowing" other stylist's tools. We commiserated on business and managing employees. My favorite was when he was talking on the phone with one of his people, "Well I'm not accusing you of anything, but take a minute and think back to see if you remember taking $220 in tip money on Saturday." Sit back and remember? If anything, I will say that it doesn't matter what salon you go to, the problems are all the same.

His mom ran a salon which is where he began the trade. Lo and behold, Mrs. Skinner showed up. A little lady with a loud British accent. "Ello, love. Yur goin' to do my hair now aren't cha?"

She sat down across from me and then remarked, "My my she certainly has lovely hair. Medium texture, straight, long," she lifts my face, "And you are a pretty thing too."

"Mom, this is her first time in my chair. Don't scare her off. Now is Amy doing your perm?"

"Aye. Ello, Amy!" A young girl with trendy hair and clothes showed up.

"Do you want the grey or the pink rollers?" She asked Mrs. Skinner.

Both Jon and his mother said at the same time, "Pink!" "Grey!"

"Now then, I've been doing hair for 44 years and I think I know a thing or two about my hair. Don't get smart with me from your fancy hair show in Chicago there. I like it tight because it relaxes." She smiles at me, "I'm still his mother."

I was then whisked away to his chair and I said goodbye to the matriarch. I began to watch my locks fall as he began the cut and a few of his proteges gathered to observe. My anxiety began to rise. Oh my God, what if I end up looking like one of the puppets from "The Dark Crystal" with stringy hair or what if I end up looking like Rachel from "Friends?"

I will say the color was gorgeous! I did look like a model for a hair show when I was finished. However I wasn't used to the layers.

"Are you sure I don't look like Rachel?" I said.

"Which one was she?" Ok, maybe not. "Oh, no, I remember her. No, Rachel didn't have bangs."

Ok, so maybe I looked like a news anchor? I began to feel quite nervous about my new look. My solace was I kept thinking I could fly back home to Jerry and have him fix it if it was terrible. After all, the cost of the cut, color, and two products was about the same price as a plane ticket.

I went up to Jon after to tip him while he was working on his mom.

"Oh no, I don't accept tips, but thank you." He said.

His mother then screamed out, "I do!!" She was a trip!

Turns out, everyone LOVES it! Once I realized by day two that I didn't need to fuss styling it (it was that good of a cut it just fell into place), I grew to love my look too. Its the new me, reinvented.