Misadventures of a Gypsy in a Hair Salon

I feel like this post should come with a warning, but I can't decide what kind of warning to give...so be forewarned.

It should be noted that I like to think of myself as a fairly low maintenance kind of girl, although I am beginning to realize that I may be only partially low maintenance. There are few things that I require to be happy in any particular place we have lived. One of them is a decent hair stylist & colorist. In DC the hair stylist wasn't a huge problem b/c we were only 6 hrs from Ohio and I could visit Amy, the fabulous hairstylist whom shall be referred to as Fabulous Amy from this point on. I am aware that it might seem slightly impractical to drive 6 hrs for a hair color and cut, but seriously people, I had family to visit there as well. In NC I was able to find a hair salon that was comparable to the one in Ohio. While I didn't find a particular stylist there that I loved as much as Amy, they were able to apply color and give me a decent cut (especially when I gave them Amy's handwritten color mix and application instructions). I also managed to have Amy do my hair once or twice on visits home to Ohio. AL has presented me a challenge. I would rather have a root canal than find a new hair stylist/colorist. Before you ask, yes I have actually had a root canal before, twice on the same tooth. I've also had several cavities filled. I'd still rather visit a dentist. And this is where the real story begins...

Typically a trip to the salon leaves a spring in my step and a smile on my face...at least when I visit Fabulous Amy. I was hoping this trip would do the same for me because I've been a bit stressed lately and I'm finding few things that bring me joy. There were many warning signs long before I ended up in the hair salon (I'm using this term loosely in reference to this particular place) that this trip would not end well. This particular salon was located in a rather nice area of Birmingham, not the snobbiest of places but still snobby. (This typically means that you're going to find somebody with some kind of knowledge there...but that you will also being paying for their knowledge as well. I have no problem paying for a great color and cut; however, I do have a problem paying for a less than great one.) It was all good and fine until I drove up and realized that this particular salon was in a strip mall type place. Ok, not a problem there could still be potential...and then I walked through the door. I was bombarded with thoughts and my brain frantically tried to sort them out. I was greeted by a big green desk-the kind you find at nail salons, except there was no one sitting at the desk to greet me and there was no clip board to sign in. I went to sit down as I tried to discern if I was in a nail salon or a hair salon (because behind the desk were several nail tech desks) when I saw my stylist wave me on back to the chair. No personal greeting or coming up to retrieve me as a client, nope. Just a wave and a come on back. .oO(Oh crud, I feel like I just walked in to some "down home" salon where I can't find a single person who looks like they might have stepped beyond the 90's. Now what? It will be ok, right? It isn't Fabulous Amy, but surely this person can do hair after years of styling, right? Right?!) Everyone was dressed rather casually and not up to date casual either. I can't say I'm the most stylish person, but typically a hair dresser has a put together sort of look, their hair is styled, and they've looked at a fashion magazine in the last decade and taken some notes. .oO(Yes, I'm still holding on to being a low maintenance girl...)

As I walk back to the chair we have to locate a clean smock for me to change into so that the stylist doesn't ruin my shirt with hair color. Ok, good sign, right? Well, maybe it was a good sign but we have to hunt a bit too much for a smock, we manage to get one straight from the dryer. Then the discussion of what to do with my hair begins. It should be noted that at that point in time I had highlights and low lights that were looking very nice, but about an inch and a half of root growth that was a lot darker. My mission was to get the root problem fixed and trim my hair back into the sleek bob that Fabulous Amy created for me. The stylist recommends dying my hair back to my natural color for fall/winter and if when my hair is dry afterwards I decide I want some caramel colored highlights the stylist can add them. Ok, it sounds like a good idea to me. (Even though I was loving the high & low lights I know that an all over color is easier to maintain than the multi-colored tresses so I agreed. I'm thinking it odd to do the all over color first and then do highlights-kinda seems like there might be some skill issues here, but whatever.) The stylist went back to mix the color after guessing at what my natural color. (Nope, no color samples to look at-just an inspection of the root color and off we go.) I'm starting to wonder if this is going to turn out all right or not. The stylist comes back with a single bottle of color and begins messily applying it to the roots of my hair. Once the roots are covered the stylist just starts kind of mushing dye onto the rest of my hair. I'm pretty sure you need to ensure that the hair dye is evenly applied to each section of hair, but who am I to judge? I didn't go to cosmetology school...then again I have been getting my hair dyed for at least the past 15 years even if it was only highlights at first. .oO(I'm starting to panic, but trying not to show it. I'm wishing I would have taken a sedative or something before trying this.) Also, the stylist only used one single bottle of color. Again, it wouldn't be a problem for most people, but I happen to have very thick hair. I've never seen a stylist use only one bottle of color on my hair. .oO(My heart sinks because I can already tell that this hairstyling adventure is not going to lift my spirits...in fact it just might crush them.) Once the color is applied a plastic shower cap is placed over my hair and I am sent to sit under the dryer for 10 minutes. After 10 minutes the plastic comes off, the dryer gets turned off, and I sit in the air for the dye to oxidize. It's a different kind of dye but no biggie, I'm game for trying it.

Time is up and I am sent to the shampoo bowl where the attendant washes the dye out of my hair. Then it is off to the stylist's chair to get the cut. I say "I had a bob that had a few different subtle layers to give it some movement. So if you could just cut it back into shape and take off about an inch and a half or so that would be great. My hair gets hard to deal with in the humidity when it gets to a certain length. " The stylist asks a few more questions about how it was cut and then begins cutting. I begin to relax. Surely I can get a decent cut. Just follow the map and cut off a proportionate amount the whole way around. The next thing I know the stylist has whipped out a razor. (Sharp intake of breath because I'm fairly certain my hair doesn't do well when cut with a razor, but it has been so long since someone cut it with a razor that I can't quite remember. The Fabulous Amy knows not to use a razor on Frantz hair. She's smart like that.) The stylist realizes my shock and says "I'm using a razor so that the layers will be subtle and you can easily style it." I smile and say "ok." .oO(I know that is why a razor is used...but come on. The voice in my head is saying "SCREAM" I quietly squelch that voice.)

The cutting and slicing is over. Thank goodness. Now begins the drying. I'm carefully looking at my hair as the color is revealed to me. It kinda looks like I still have a root line, it's just darker now. Surely that isn't right. I came to get my root problem covered up, not to change its color. Honestly people. So we dry and dry and dry some more. (My hair takes a long time to dry.) The stylist asks if I'd like some highlights. .oO(Uh, NOPE! Do I want to give you one more chance to screw up my hair? NOPE. I want to get out of here asap!!) I say no thanks this is good. .oO(Why can I not scream at this point and say what I'm thinking? Something like, uh can you try dying my hair again because you still haven't fixed the root problem. Why? Because I am still too shocked it even happened.) Surely the torture is over at this point. We've dyed it all one color, supposedly. We've cut it, more like liberated it in all the wrong ways with a razor. Surely we're done.

But alas, we still have to style it. We flip out the ends. Not a big problem, flipped out ends can be stylish. Then we begin to tease the hair at the crown of my head. Teasing it with a metal teasing comb...you know, the kind your grandma uses. (Sorry, no offense grandma. Your hair looks wonderful teased. Mine doesn't.) I don't have a part just a sort of swooping, teased creation. To add insult to injury hairspray is applied to the swoop. Goodness knows we don't want that swoop to fall in the humidity. Seriously? I look like I just stepped out of the 50's. Can you say Stepford Wife? Eeek!!

Somehow I manage to change out of my smock and pay for the disaster on my head. I grumble to my car and spend the rest of the day grumpy about the fact that my hair didn't go as planned and now I'm left wondering what to do about it. I run my fingers through my hair and kind of calm down the teased mess. I find a part line and make it look a little less 50's and more like something from this decade. I try to soothe my frazzled nerves with some retail therapy. It doesn't really go well because I am unable to really find any of the things I was looking for to finish the bathroom remodel and to accessorize my wardrobe for the move to the higher volume store.

It is now 3 days later. I have washed and dried my hair twice at this point. I am trying to determine if I am going to try and have Bivins dye my hair for me to make it truly all one color or am I going to wait a week or two and try again. (In retrospect he didn't do a bad job when he dyed it last December.) I have managed to get my hair to go into somewhat of a sleek bob, but I still have some unruly strands that were liberated with the razor and think that they don't have to follow orders from my straightener. .oO(Stupid razor.) It isn't as bad as it felt the day it was done, but it still irks me. All I wanted was a great hairstyle to bring me some joy in a place where nothing feels familiar. Apparently it was too much to ask. This gypsy is wishing her travels had brought her a bit closer to the Fabulous Amy. Maybe the next move will bring us closer...