Not So Great Clips

When I was growing up, I used to perm my hair. I’ve always had thick hair, a lot of it, and a natural wave, so a perm seemed the best way to manage it. Over the years, though, I stopped perming. I wanted to have healthy, silky hair. I wanted to encourage my natural wave. I wanted to save seventy-five dollars.

By not perming, though, I lost control of my wave. I don’t have a regular stylist. When it’s time for a trim, I walk into Fantastic Sam’s or Supercuts, lay down 12 to 15 bucks and hope they don’t cut off too much or give me bangs. When someone unfamiliar with my hair gives me interesting layers, that’s just what they become: interesting. I can’t seem to get a manageable haircut.

So now I’m on stage and I have a problem: my hair hangs in my face and the willy-nilly layers the last stylist gave me are going haywire. I need help! I’ve been to Supercuts, but I need something more. I need someone who can hear my troubles and know exactly what to do. I need Nick Arrojo, the stylist on What Not to Wear! (I probably need Clinton and Stacy too, but that’s another issue).

I fear going to the hairstylist the way that some people fear going to the dentist. It’s harrowing. I don’t know anything about hair. Hair falls into the “girly arts” category with clothes, shoes, and makeup; a category about which this former Catholic School girl knows little. So I hate it when someone who has a degree on the subject starts asking me questions. Do I want long layers? Short layers? A bob? I don’t know! Just make me look presentable; that's your job. Never works that way. They always ask. And I always get a cautious trim.

This time, though, I’ve got it figured out. There’s a frou-frou salon around the corner, touting their hair services: “our hair designers work to create and refine their clients’ personal style.” That’s what I need! You can book graduating levels of stylists for increasing fees, so I book with Virginia, the Master Stylist, at $65. I’ve never paid $65 for anything less than a perm before, so I figure this is going to be GREAT! She’s going to know exactly what to do. I’m imagining Nick saying “we’re going to create a softer look, frame the face, and get this out of your eyes,” and a jaw-dropping transformation. Virginia will make it all right!

Before going in, I make a short list of bullet points. I am, after all, cutting for the stage. I need my hair out of my face; the audience is supposed to see me. I need some degree of versatility; changing hair and costume goes a long way in theatre to establish a scene or convey the passage of time. And I need something I can quickly style during a ten-minute intermission after wearing a ball cap for an hour; I won’t have time to fire up a curling iron. Apart from that, I don’t care. If you’ve got to cut off 4 inches, give me bangs, and layer what’s left to make me look good, then shear when ready, Gridley!

With list in hand, I meet Virginia. She’s an older Mexican lady with an air that reminds me of “Rosie,” the bossy Hungarian in Sue Grafton books. She’s short, round, and gruff, but if she’s anything like Rosie, she’ll do what’s best for me. She’s not.

Presented with the insurmountable task of giving me a versatile, brush-able haircut that doesn’t hang in my face, Virginia sneers “it’s not Magic!” and proceeds to snip. My hair, she says, is too healthy, too “silky,” to work with. In this day and age only chemically-treated hair stays in place. Now I’m thinking that if chemicals are needed my $65 should buy some chemicals. Fry away! She doesn’t offer. My $65 at the frou-frou salon buys me an $15 Supercuts trim. Before tip.

Sigh.

The next time I spend that much on my hair, I’m getting a perm. At Supercuts. But I’d still rather go to the dentist.

For a dissenting opinion… check out the girl who regularly spends $180 then goes to a walk-in. Personally, I think she's nuts. Google "In the Company of Witches" (Linking to it is forbidden).