Twilight Zone

After much procrastinating, I finally researched and picked a new hair stylist. The one I was going to had done a thermal straightener on my hair. It was very expensive and left my hair only slightly straighter, but more unmanageable. It was extra frizzy, dry, damaged. It took me a while to accept that it was crap, so I continued to go there for my cuts and color. I paid his prices while his assistant did a lot of the work. He often left me waiting for 20 minutes or more while he tended to something else in the salon (he's the owner). Enough's enough.

I searched for salons and checked out their yelp ratings. One stylist kept coming up over and over again. The reviews were really good so I called and made an appointment. The salon where he works is a full service spa with a wine bar. It seemed impressive. I arrived a few minutes early to my appointment and it was just weird. The salon is quite a bit outdated looking--as if they were way ahead of their time with the idea of offering libations with pampering. I started to take notice of the people walking around--there were many men in their mid 50s, maybe even 60s. One was wearing a flowered shirt with khaki high water pants. It was just the weirdest thing. There were older women getting perms. There were a few younger women that you'd expect to see in a salon, but just a handful. After a few minutes one of the 60 year old men came over and called my name. He's a few inches shorter than me but he could easily place in the top 3 for a Kojak look-a-like contest.

He ended up being the nicest guy. He has a pretty thick Moroccan accent; I really had to concentrate to make sure I understood what he was saying. He talked to me about alternatives for the thermal straigthener that had been botched. He appeared to be on the cutting edge with the services he offers. He showed me photos on his iPhone of both the straighteners and extensions he had done. I was impressed. The girls could have been models solely for how wonderful their hair looked. They totally didn't look like the clientele that was frequenting the salon that day. I was shocked to find out they pay $2000 every few months to maintain their extensions!?!?

Another photo he showed me was of some guy he said was from Journey. I pondered whether I heard him correctly. I used to love Journey. After we were underway with my color he said, “Oh, there he is--the guy from Journey.” I look over and see this guy wearing a baseball cap and Poncherrello (from CHiPs) sunglasses. He makes his way over to my guy’s station and starts talking like Pepe lapue. Then he switched to John Wayne. He asks my stylist if he has time tomorrow to do his highlights. He apologizes to me for the interruption and they both walk away. He looks back and says something like, “Don’t worry, your hair will just be green when he gets back.” All I could think was this is just weeeiiird.

Later when my hair was being cut, my stylist made a comment about the song on the surround sound—it was “Wheel in the Sky” by Journey. Seventies/Eighties music had been playing the whole time.

My guy did a wonderful job with my hair. He used something on it that made is so thick and shiny; I couldn't stop touching it. He also gave me a travel size collection of Shampoo and Conditioner. His prices were 50% less than my last guy. I swear though, I just can't quite wrap my head around it all. I was totally stuck in the 80s for 2 1/2 hours. I just can't reconcile that with the quality of my hair and the very trendy photos on his iPhone.