Don't get your hair done at a beauty school. It's like asking someone who doesn't have a driver's license to chauffeur you around town.
Don't believe me?
Try it, but don't get mad at me when I get to tell you "I told you so..."
That was the mistake of our client of the day. Needless to say she will be back in one month so that we can fix her lack of better judgment once the disaster that is her hair is an inch longer.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
If it's gray up there...
It may not necessarily be gray down there and as candidly shared by a client who mentioned this one day, "I don't have any gray hairs on my head but I sure do have some gray pubic hairs."
I guess this is why they make this product now:
http://bettybeauty.com/
I guess this is why they make this product now:
http://bettybeauty.com/
The Right Wing
Should we consider the need to gossip a human flaw?
The result of gossip can be presumtuous, hurtful, a trivial waste of time...BUT definitely something none of us can steer clear of in the society we live in. We have blogs, television shows, and magazines devoted soley to gossip and hearsay. The classic venue to divulge and partake of gossip is the almighty beauty salon. Cut to the beauty shop scene from "Steel Magnolias."
Now given hairdressers don't have to abide by any nondisclosure agreements, I will now take advantage of this medium to share a little tidbit for the day.
There once was a client (who from here on out shall be referred to as "the right wing conservative" or RWC). RWC was a fine god fearing woman of strong conviction who ran in the area's political circles. RWC always arrived impeccably dressed, well accessorized, and well coifed with a preset slew of appointments for the year. One often felt intimidated by her presence alone as perhaps anyone would in the company of one who is so put together. Well, like every person who appears visually respectable, there are skeletons in the closet. RWC's skeleton involves formerly being married to a man with immense athletic prowess who unbeknowest to her dabbled in homosexual relations. You know those sex tapes that all those celebrities make these days that somehow end up in the wrong hands? Well this one landed in RWC's lap when she went fumbling around the house one day. Surprise surprise.
The result of gossip can be presumtuous, hurtful, a trivial waste of time...BUT definitely something none of us can steer clear of in the society we live in. We have blogs, television shows, and magazines devoted soley to gossip and hearsay. The classic venue to divulge and partake of gossip is the almighty beauty salon. Cut to the beauty shop scene from "Steel Magnolias."
Now given hairdressers don't have to abide by any nondisclosure agreements, I will now take advantage of this medium to share a little tidbit for the day.
There once was a client (who from here on out shall be referred to as "the right wing conservative" or RWC). RWC was a fine god fearing woman of strong conviction who ran in the area's political circles. RWC always arrived impeccably dressed, well accessorized, and well coifed with a preset slew of appointments for the year. One often felt intimidated by her presence alone as perhaps anyone would in the company of one who is so put together. Well, like every person who appears visually respectable, there are skeletons in the closet. RWC's skeleton involves formerly being married to a man with immense athletic prowess who unbeknowest to her dabbled in homosexual relations. You know those sex tapes that all those celebrities make these days that somehow end up in the wrong hands? Well this one landed in RWC's lap when she went fumbling around the house one day. Surprise surprise.
Yes, trophies do get old...and dusty!
I am and forever will be comfounded by the "trophy wife" types. They are a staple in my business and in the land of beauty and glamour. Your typical "Trophy" always insists on being as blonde as possible and as tan as possible. In the mind of a Trophy blonde, the more monochrome and light the color the better. God forbid someone suggests adding low lights into the mix - there will be no adulteration of that bright bright light yellow. Lowlights actually weave in slightly darker tones into the hair to create dimention and depth. HOWEVER, if you are a tried and true classic Trophy, you lack in depth anyway, as evidenced by my last client. I think over the years, the bleach has rotted away what should have been in her head...but then again there may very well have been nothing up there anyway. There is nothing like waiting for a response to a question from someone so vacant they can't even articulate what they want in a blow dry. "Just make it curly, you know like Heather Locklear..." Um, as far as I can remember, Heather doesn't have curly hair or atleast doesn't wear it that way, and what is this I hear about wanting professional instruction on how to give better blow-jobs? Yes, someone named Trophy is actually wanting to pay for an educational experience that does not require her to use her head for much more than a physical work out.
I've decided that I should differentiate the types of Trophies in existence.
Trophy type A: The young budding trophy wife.
She may be a daughter of a Trophy or maybe she is the classic small town girl looking to hit it bigtime finding the right Mr. Moneybags - think of early Anna Nicole Smith. She is tall, slender, she hasn't gotten the implants yet, perhaps hovering around the ages 19-22. Doesn't quite have the regularity at the salon as her elder counterparts, but she is budding after all. Be on the lookout for the requisite Juicy Couture tracksuits and platform flip flop sandals.
Trophy type B: What we consider the typical Trophy.
She is in her 30's to 40's. She's found Mr. Right with the right bank account. She's artificially blonder than your typical Nordic queen and with a tan that rivals the color of a ripe tangerine. She has a very established salon schedule, every 4 weeks on the dot and always a blow out scheduled right after her color ( oh and a tanning appointment after that). She deals in cash and plastic but for the service only. Trophies don't know how to tip. That's what their husbands are for, fuck the math just take my plastic or count out my bills for me please. They too come in wearing Juicy Couture track suits and platforms, but often augment with a few slutty boho inspired see through chiffon pieces. Gotta show off the boobies the hubby bought.
Trophy type C: Face lifts and botox blondes.
There isn't much more to be said here. Imagine Trophy type B in her 60's, face frozen and tight thanks to the good work of Mr. Plastic Surgeon and thanks to the financial capabilities of Mr. Right on the Money. Trophy type C is trying to look exactly the way she did when she was but a young and fresh Trophy type A. You may assume that Trophy type C wears exactly the same clothes as Trophy type B, which is exactly the same as young Trophy type A.
I've decided that I should differentiate the types of Trophies in existence.
Trophy type A: The young budding trophy wife.
She may be a daughter of a Trophy or maybe she is the classic small town girl looking to hit it bigtime finding the right Mr. Moneybags - think of early Anna Nicole Smith. She is tall, slender, she hasn't gotten the implants yet, perhaps hovering around the ages 19-22. Doesn't quite have the regularity at the salon as her elder counterparts, but she is budding after all. Be on the lookout for the requisite Juicy Couture tracksuits and platform flip flop sandals.
Trophy type B: What we consider the typical Trophy.
She is in her 30's to 40's. She's found Mr. Right with the right bank account. She's artificially blonder than your typical Nordic queen and with a tan that rivals the color of a ripe tangerine. She has a very established salon schedule, every 4 weeks on the dot and always a blow out scheduled right after her color ( oh and a tanning appointment after that). She deals in cash and plastic but for the service only. Trophies don't know how to tip. That's what their husbands are for, fuck the math just take my plastic or count out my bills for me please. They too come in wearing Juicy Couture track suits and platforms, but often augment with a few slutty boho inspired see through chiffon pieces. Gotta show off the boobies the hubby bought.
Trophy type C: Face lifts and botox blondes.
There isn't much more to be said here. Imagine Trophy type B in her 60's, face frozen and tight thanks to the good work of Mr. Plastic Surgeon and thanks to the financial capabilities of Mr. Right on the Money. Trophy type C is trying to look exactly the way she did when she was but a young and fresh Trophy type A. You may assume that Trophy type C wears exactly the same clothes as Trophy type B, which is exactly the same as young Trophy type A.
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