Adventures in Hairstyling

adventures in hair styling

I always took issue with the thrown-around phrase, "Beauty is pain."  What a silly, dangerous precedent to set!  However, I think it brilliant to revise and align one's self to a more accessible mantra: "Beauty is free". But how is this achieved? 

Should you find yourself feeling adventurous and willing to allow someone else reign of your make up; then you are in luck. It is always good to take routine, no matter how "harried" and turn it into something new. This adventure had me hair model (read: test subject)...  blindly...  in salons I had no relationship with and no informed opinion of. See the rest after the break:

How this all got started...

I sometimes (read: often) have these quarterly-year crises.  They involve me getting restless.  When I am restless I crave change.  When I crave change I sometimes (read: often) dramatically alter my physical appearance by changing my hair.  So, should one look at the date stamp of any photograph of me from any single year, one will find upwards of four different hairstyles.  Four! 

The year 2000 boasted the best of black... to red... to burgundy... to brown. I was a blond in Japan...  and a brunette in Japan.  My hairstylists there dubbed it my “sakura" (cherry blossom) phase.  Four colors all at once in Chicago.  All told, I am not immune to impulsivity. [Editor's note: That's why you're here, isn't it?]

The Salons, and the Rules...

I scoured the streets of Boston for any salons willing to take me on as a test subject and in turn offered them this freedom: complete and total control.  Therein lies the caveat: I had, for the first time ever, absolutely no say in my own makeover.  I could not suggest;  I could not request;  I could not betray my opinion.  I was to remain stoic, impartial, and ready to receive… anything.

Two salons took me on.  One in Brookline, MA and the other in Boston’s rougher Southie.  The former was billed as a convenient chain salon with a maude-chic web presence and an admirable address.  The latter, a tattoo playground known for their choppy indie cuts and community ‘edge’.  According to their website, they've been featured on MTV.  Regardless, with either salon there was ample room for error.

Letting go...

Perhaps this still doesn’t seem like the most adventurous of adventures, and I’ll be the first to agree.  I was reticent to even declare this my weekly adventure. But because I’ve never taken stock of just how controlling I am, I failed to realize how difficult an undertaking this would be.

I discovered I am a serious control freak.

My family thinks of me as a 'free spirit' and I’ve always revelled in the namesake.  In contrast to their more secure and stable lifestyles I always thought myself very loose and malleable.  I’m nomadic; I go against the grain and dye my hair wild colors; I have been known to wear curious ensembles in my youth...  but even so, these were all decisions of my making.  With each choice came self-imposed consequences. I had to be better.

my new hair do

An adventurous lifestyle asks that I let down my guard, lessen control, and… trust.  So I did.  I trusted my Brookline stylist who dyed my hair a darling three shades of copper, red and blond.  I trusted the super tattoo’ed novice who nervously razored my hair over three hours becau

se she had to consult with the manager on every lock of hair she altered. 

As for the end results?  Eh, I’ve had better- but... but... but I have never had such a moment of relaxation.  I let my guard down.  I trusted someone(s).  And I’m no worse off than when I started.  In fact, I’m better.  My Florence Hendersonesque mullet is removed and I am learning life lessons.  In style.