Archives for posts with tag: hair

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I only get my hair cut about once a year. The reasons behind this are many…money being the main contributor. I don’t always have $40 plus tip to throw away on my hair. But when I do splurge, I want to walk out of the salon like a new woman with some serious kick-ass hair.

After a haircut is supposed to be the time your hair looks its best – styled to where you know you are never going to be able to replicate it. You should feel like a rock star all blown out and beautiful.

Yesterday I returned to my usual hair joint, Salon Druknya in Charlottesville, despite the fact that one of the women there positively butchered my bangs a few months back. Well, let me tell you, It will be the last time they will get a dime of my money.

I was very specific about what I wanted. My bangs to be the focal point, and to use lots of layers to frame my face. Rather than just bangs and hair, I wanted it all to blend together seamlessly.

The glasses came off and my haircut began.

She only cut my hair for what seemed like 7 or 8 minutes and began to blow dry. She hadn’t touched my bangs yet. hmmmm. I thought back to a haircut I once got in my hometown at this salon called Arthur Zo. The gal at that place cut my hair for what seemed an eternity. Could I really be done so fast?

She used no rounded brush. No wide curling iron. Once my hair was dry she trimmed my bangs and declared me done. I put my glasses back on to see a very plain, very uninspired me in the mirror. There was no wow. No volume. Just me with pencil straight hair and bangs that were a tad too short.

I must interject here that I cannot speak up for myself easily at all, especially not face to face. While I was woefully disappointed in my cut, I said it looked fine and got up to pay. Leaving the salon, my hair had no swing. No bounce. It just fluttered in the wind as I dejectedly walked back to my office.

I had hopes that I could style it my own this morning, in an attempt to improve the shapeless cut, but even that was a fruitless. I’m stuck in frumpland until it grows.  There’s nothing else I can do.

Except one thing. Find a new salon. For me AND my daughters. Salon Druknya didn’t just lose me. They lost my whole family.

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The place where I get my hair cut will trim your bangs for free. It’s a bonus for me because I tend to take the shears to my own forehead and the result isn’t always great. I don’t walk away looking like Hannah Horvath after her manic trim on Girls, but they never lay quite right.

I wind up with a sweeping, feathery bang like the bully in the Karate Kid.

So when I noticed my bangs were getting a wee bit bushy I used great restraint in reaching for the scissors and waited until the salon was open so I could get a sensible and professional trim.

I told the stylist I wanted them trimmed to eyebrow level. I took my glasses off and let her do her thing. When she was done, I put my glasses back on, saw bangs that were at least a third of an inch ABOVE my eyebrows, gave them a shake and said “great!”

I look like a 4th grader. I felt like everyone was staring at me as I walked back to my office. I felt every co-workers eyes on me as I strolled to my desk. My kids made fun of me when I got home.

I know the shape of the bangs are great…they are just too short.

So time heals all wounds. On the plus side in two weeks or so I’ll have some seriously rockin’ bangs.

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The other day my daughters and I were at a rally in support on International Women’s Day. The room was filled with gals (& guys) of all ages listing to other gals of all ages recite poems and make speeches. At one point an older woman with grey hair in two braids walked by us. Both of my girls turned to me and said, “that is soooo you in 20 years.”

And I had to agree with them. I’m in my 50s and I have pigtails in my hair today.

I don’t know why so many older women succumb to the short hair trend. It seems like when you reach a certain age, women are required to get a short, sensible hair style.  Perhaps women do it because their hair is getting thinner, or they just want to have a simple style that they don’t have to fuss over.

Not me. I need my hair long. Even now my hair reaches my chest, and I still feel like it’s too short. Sure my hair is thinner, but that’s no reason for me to lop it all off.

Yeah, I’m fairly certain I will be that old lady in braids. I may be an old fart, but at least I’ll stand out in a crowd.

Just a little off the top, please

I never get a good haircut. Ok, that’s not entirely true. I think I’ve had 3 good cuts in my adult life.

My last haircut was a total disaster (see old blog post for the full blow by blow description – footnote: Moxie salon in Charlottesville VA sucks). I have waited almost an entire year for a new cut, but I had hang in there until my hair got long and shapeless enough to feel annoying.

The difference between that historic haircut and the multitude of other bad cuts I get can be summed up very simply. It never looks like I’ve had my hair cut AT ALL. I’ll come home and hubby and kids will tell me I look no different.

After a haircut, one should look chic, glamorous and polished. One should have that “I just got my hair cut and I won’t ever be able to recreate this look again” kind of style.

That is the haircut of olden times – or for folks with cash to burn. Spending more than $30 on a hair cut seems like a total waste of coin to me. Most of the “better salons” in town cost $50 per cut. I spent that last year and got butchered. Never again.

Used to be a haircut included a wash and a blow dry – it was mandatory. Now a days, those little perks are extra. I’ve seen stylists undo my cape ready to send me packing with my hair dripping wet. It’s at that point that I sheepishly ask if I can borrow a blow dryer or brave the elements with wet hair.

Today I realized I needed a haircut before our big family shindig this weekend. So I hauled ass to the mall during lunch and paid $15 at some crappy walk in salon. All I wanted was some long layers cut in. I guess they did what I asked for, but the cut has no shape, no verve, no penache.

But they never do. It’s only until I wash it the next morning and mess with my curved brush, blow dryer and curling iron that I say “looking good, Mr. Kotter.” I have totally turned the tables. Now, my hair looks better after I’M done styling it.

Perhaps one day I will find the perfect salon and the perfect stylist who does my hair to perfection regardless of how many times I have hacked away at my bangs with an elementary school scissor. Or am I asking too much?