Anyway, Tink and I went to breakfast before the hair cut. We were seated at the window and I was able to watch two painters discuss how they were going to work on the window. Mind you, this is my borough and so there are quite a few colorful characters who walk around...anyway, as I sipped my coffee and relaxed, painter number 1 decided that he would spit in front of the window. He took a deep breath in and let it roll off his lips onto the ground in front of him...a long string of yellow, brown sputum. As I gagged, I considered that I would never have seen a show like this with the addition of body fluids at the hoity toity salon that I usually frequent. That's right...I was now wondering about my choice in salons and rethinking my thought process.
As I walked toward the salon, an older woman stopped me and said that the stylist was not in yet. Her niece was dropping the dogs off. Ooops, there is one chair here. It is like a barber shop. Dad would be so pleased. Maybe the guy with the frothy sputum will join us. Anyway, it seems that it is a one chair, one hair dresser salon and I felt like I was in someone's basement.
The stylist finally got there and Aunt Mitzie sat down and joined us. The actual working space and salon was the size of a size ten shoe box. I knew that this would be an adventure and here it goes....The owner and stylist whom I will call Antonia was younger than middle age but older than young adult. She was not in the condition that I normally see in the salons and said that she loved my sneakers (formerly known as the lucky ones). Yep, I started to relax a bit. Anyway, Aunt Mitzie was part of the conversation as she said that she drove a school bus and guess what? She had cataract surgery this past summer. She had been driving with cataracts for a number of years. Aunt Mitzie was a hoot and so was Antonia.
As she cut the hairs on my head, I learned more about her and she is a local to the community. She took over her father's barbershop when he died in 2001 and I wondered if she was a barber and not a stylist. She continued to cut and chat and was finally finished. I was going to leave without her drying it but was having such a good time, I stayed....OK, as she put product in my hair, I knew that she had an agenda as she whipped the hair dryer out. Then it came...tease...tease....roll...roll...heat....flip...and then I was done....everyone in the little shop said: "oooowwww....you look so pretty....." Uh huh...pretty?
I don't think so! I looked like Billy Ray Cyrus when he had his mullet and was singing 'Achy Breaky Heart!" I was startled to say the least and laughing to say the most...it's just hair...right? The three people who squeezed into the salon liked it. So what is wrong with me? So, I thanked her and paid her a nice tip (sorry dad) and walked back to the car.
Tink in her 'Tink-ness' said to me..."You look like Uncle Poodle in Honey BooBoo." Huh? What does Uncle Poodle look like? Does he look like Billy Ray Cyrus? I was in the borough in the northeast, not some small town in Louisiana (is that where Honey BB lives?).
Yes, she was right...I looked stunning.
My hair was in a bouffant as it touched the top of my car. I am not too worried but will definitely put a hat on before I go out. In the meantime, I will take a photo and send it to dad so that he can see what a 'less expensive' hair cut looks like....will I go back? Hmmm....it might take a few glasses of boxed wine, but I may have her try the color. I could be asking for trouble, but I really liked the salon, Antonia, and Aunt Mitzie....so maybe...just maybe....if I can get my hair to relax after chipping off the sticky product embedded in my hair, I might go back. Until then, I will enjoy the day, have Tink give me a scalp massage, and drink a Merlot at dinner...there...that did not cost $60.00 plus tip. Dad, are you happy now?