Thursday, December 27, 2007

Mr. Miyagi Gets Schooled

Several years ago, C got me a gift certificate for Frederic Fekkai salon which is a fabu salon in NYC. Upon doing some research it seems that this fine place is where the stars go. I of course saw no stars, unless botox is famous. There was a expressionless army of woman and they frightened me.

I felt so fabulous, in the beginning. I had a facial in a room that overlooked 5th avenue, a mani and pedicure- where I watched episodes of Sex & the City and then it was off for my long awaited and highly anticipated hair cut.

I had to change into a robe that tied in the front, and by this point, I'm a little nervous that I'm going to hit any given servant asking if I'd like a beverage in the face with milk. I need to pump (yes I had to bring my pump into NYC, luckily it looks like a completely unfashionable backpack), my pants are kind of falling down because they need a good wash and dry and I have on disposable shoes from the pedi and I may take a digger at anytime. I look like a hott mess, surrounded by the most overpriced woman in NY. My holey, rain soaked, 6 year old sneakers I was carrying around with me was not quite the Manolo Blahniks that people around me had.

My nail woman brought me to meet my hair guy. He was kind of mute. Did a lot of poking and shaking of my hair. He blew onto his hands before touching my hair, somewhat in a meditating fashion - he reminded me of Mr. Miyagi with his wax on wax off. He was very expressive with his hands, with out saying much at all and there was a lot of hugging. He asked me to explain what I wanted, and I told him- what I've told a million hair stylists all over the country- in every podunk hair salon coast to coast- "short in the back, chunky- with lots of piece, kind of messy and funky, fun- not straight across in the back."

Could I have explained it more? Sure. Did I know this was my only opportunity to explain what I wanted before we assaulted me with a pair of scissors? No.

LONG STORY SHORT, I'll give you the highlights.
  • He made me stand for most of my hair cut.
  • He walked up to me grabbed the front of my hair, pulled it down and cut bangs on a diagonal.
  • Bangs.
  • He gave me the Rachel circa 1997.
  • While my internal monologue was "Don't let him do this. Why aren't you saying anything? Speak up woman!" I said nothing, until the very end because I was going to trust the idiot.
  • Upon telling said idiot that I was going to trust him, he replied with "You have no choice."
  • After the metamorphosis was complete, I demanded a recount- I wanted him to fix the mess he had made and while he instead chose to show me the movement in my hair - he would not fix it the way I wanted it because "the short is not good for you." Something, that I explained, would have been best to know before I sat down in his godforsaken chair.

I left to get my stupid make up done, like he told me to. He told me to come back after if I really didn't like it. So after I got my make up done, I went to the front desk and explained for the 15th time that I didn't like my hair and that i was looking for, short and choppy in the back was translated to a feathered mullet and I wanted it fixed before I left. I fought and did not cry. I had to come back in a half hour, and wait another hour and half to be done. I entered this hell hole at 11:30 am and didn't leave until after 6pm. But I left with the party piece of the mullet cut off. It is not how I wanted it, I have what looks to be almost grown out bangs, and my hair does not fit back in a pony tail, but luckily for the Miyagi, I have great hair and I'll make it work for now. It's just not the fab haircut I have been waiting for, since the summer. As he finished the second haircut on me, before I left he did make me laugh and break the verge of tears I was fighting since we met. He shook his head confidently and said, "You know what? You were right. This is much better."

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