I have always loved going to get my hair cut at a salon. I’m not one to be too precious about my hair, so I don’t get anxious about how it will come out – it always grows back, right? The actual cut is a little beside the point anyway, because the really great part is getting fussed over for a bit. I love getting my hair washed, and the place I go to now has these amazing reclining massage chairs at the sinks, and they usually do some sort of deep conditioning treatment that means I get to relax there for a few minutes with the massage action going and a hot towel covering my hair. Bliss.
Over the last year, I have come to look forward to haircuts even more, because of the stylist I have been seeing since shortly after the babe was born. I first went to her when I was about 6 weeks postpartum, my father-in-law bravely offering to stay with the baby for an hour so I could make the appointment. It was nice to take some time for myself and have an hour to not be on Baby Alert, but it was even nicer to find such an amazing stylist.
My appointment today was an example of what makes this stylist, K, so great. The salon itself smells good, sounds good, looks good. There is furniture I wish I had in my own house, tea that I wish I could source, and music that represents deep cuts from a true music lover’s playlist. The stylists are all interestingly and effortlessly beautiful. This is a place where people are happy. K greets me and compliments my hat, worn because the day so far has been a rush of wake up-change baby-get stuff together-music class-back home-lunch-cleaning-appointment, and my hair was not on that list of To Dos. She asks about the baby, she gets me some tea, she chats with me about how the last cut has grown out and what I’d like to have done today. She doesn’t talk at all while I relax in the awesome chair by the sink, and then engages in easy conversation with me while she works. She points out another stylist’s shoes, something like these, and talks about how she likes those over the kind with the peep toe because the peep toes can look a little too fierce.
Did you catch that? She’s talking to me as though I might be someone who would wear shoes like that, and debate over the relative fierceness of different styles. Me, who is wearing her probably one-inch-too-short housecleaning jeans, with green argyle socks that show a little too much when wear these pants. Me, who always realizes when I sit down in her chair that I need to pluck my eyebrows, like three days ago. Me, who is a full decade older than she is and wore shoe booties like that the first time they were trendy, when I was in the 6th grade. Love her.
I don’t mean to sell myself short. I try to dress in clothes that are current and flattering, but my best efforts are not reserved for Saturday afternoons at the hair salon, so K wouldn’t even know what my best effort looks like. The first time I went to see her I was still in elastic-waisted maternity jeans. I also don’t mean for this to sound as though a 31-year-old mom and a 21-year-old stylist would never converge on their fashion choices – as I’ve said, I don’t like to put people in boxes like that.
There’s just something so genuinely warm and open about her, something that comes through when she talks about her family, her boyfriend, the puppies that her parents’ dog just had, fashion. She’s really personable, not in that fake honey-baby-sweetie way, but in a way that instantly draws in the people around her and makes them feel included. I get that this is part of her job, but it’s fabulous to come across someone who has so obviously found what they love to do and is great at it.
Also, my hair has never looked better.
So, Fabulous Thing #30: Finding someone who makes you feel fabulous inside and out.