The Salon Show

The Hair - Thank You Stylist

In need of a hair color refresh, I trekked over to the hair salon this morning. After years of going to sub-par stylists, most of whom had two or three shades of purple in their scarily lopsided hairstyles, I finally found "the one" a few years ago. I only go to see her four or five times a year, but each time I go, the experience always proves to be entertaining.

The salon is modern looking, with tile floors and large black and white photos of models with sleekly styled hair on the walls. And though I can always count on my hairstylist to make my hair look great, I never know what to expect from the other clientele.

While sitting in the black swivel chair while my stylist slicked gobs of gooey brownish glop into my hair, I could hear a lady to my left chatting away on her cell. She was an average height and average looking middle-aged lady wearing a leopard top under her black cape, and she was sitting with her head under the half-globe dryer. 

Speaking loud enough for the entire salon to hear her, she said something like, "Mom, I will put a chip in you so I can find you! Yes, one of those little chips they put in dogs. You heard me!" My stylist and I made eye contact in the mirror and started to chuckle, trying to hold it under control, just in case the lady decided to check her peripheral vision. Judging from her conversation and her leopard top, I had a feeling she could release a whole lot of crazy if she wanted to. Best to stay under the radar. 

She went on, "I refuse to put you into an old folks' home!! I don't care if you don't want to live with me!!" 

At this point, the conversation must've taken another turn because she said, "He hates you because he loves you."

This conversation went on for another ten minutes. 

After she hung up the call, I decided to change the channel and focus in on the lady sitting across the aisle from me. A mid-thirties homely looking woman was getting her hair trimmed and blown out by a male stylist, who is fabulously gay. I noticed her smiling quite a bit at him, laughing and tossing her hair. She seemed to be enjoying her hair cut a bit too much. I couldn't help but ask my stylist for the details. 

This lady had been trying to seduce her gay stylist for the past few years, coming in every six weeks and making veiled references to men's "packages" and talking up her favorite hobby, roller skating. Not surprisingly, my stylist said, she wasn't getting very far in her seduction.

After a wash, trim and blow out, I put on my coat to head out the door. I couldn't help but smile to myself. 

There's a reason there are never televisions in salons. The show is always playing in house.