Now I've Haired Everything!

“Meanwhile, back at Lloyd’s Magic Mirror North, my first day on the job was a real revelation, and I seriously wondered if I belonged there.  The salon was sunny and cozy, designed in a circular arrangement of four work stations complete with hoses that sprayed out setting lotion and hairspray.  There was a separate shampoo room, with reclining chairs nestled up to the sinks.  Carla, with the green eyes and shock-waved hair, was deftly sculpting pincurls and chatting with her customer.  Lloyd, tall and slim and very much in command, was expertly blow drying an elderly lady’s hair while twisting and turning a funny little round brush.  Blow drying?  I knew such an appliance existed, but I certainly never owned one, much less handled one.  I was only expected to observe, thank God.  I’m sure my mouth was gaping open, while I watched those two competent professionals performing acts of hairstyling I’d never seen done at any beauty school!  They were doing “precision haircuts” with instruments called “blending shears”, and they were cutting men’s hair.  Barbering by beauticians was illegal when I went to beauty school.  Panic engulfed me, as I realized I did not possess these skills.  Not only were they performing with polish, the atmosphere was relaxed and friendly.  The customers were laughing and chattering with the utmost confidence in their trusted hair professionals.  The interaction between all of them amazed me.  I imagined they viewed me as the dumb “new girl.”  I felt like an idiot.”

“I made myself look busy by brewing numerous pots of coffee, sweeping up hair, folding towels and answering the phone, but Lloyd insisted I stand at his elbow and observe his technique.  He explained and re-explained the hows and whys of what he was doing.  I sucked it up like a dry sponge, as his huge fingers twisted the tiniest pincurl, tamed the most stubborn cowlick and coaxed a shaggy mane into shiny perfection.  My admiration was immense, and my respect for his talent and patience was immeasurable.  He was definitely masculine, soft-spoken and allowed no gossip in the shop.  He could discuss hunting and fishing, cars and airplanes with the male clients and then tie a delicate silk scarf around the neck of a tiny old woman.  He never missed an opportunity to grab a smoke, especially while talking on the phone, where he’d leave a subtle scent of Jovan’s Musk for Men.  He always kept a respectable distance, but made each and every one of his clients feel special.  Never unruffled by mixed up appointments or late comers, he took hairstyling very seriously.  He was very much the Old Master who knew all the basics and the newest of the new.  What a blessing for me to be starting my journey at the knee of such a man.”