I visited the salon just the other day. It resembled New York City's Times Square on Dec.31st, 1999. Folks rushed about in various stages of what I refer to as Headiting. (Take a little off here, add a smidge there.) This particular establishment will happily layer you up or laser you down. No matter. It's whatever your little heart desires. Hair or bare, they really don't care.
Got me to thinking about this culture of ours. Left or Right, Yanks or Mets, personal preferences aside; there's one thing upon which we can surely agree.
We are a society that is follicularly fixated.
Evidence can be found almost everywhere. Take Broadway, where the musical "Hair" debuted in 1967 and is still being performed in revivals to this very day. And what about that famous fairy tale "Rapunzel?" That chick had an enviable (albeit tangled) mane. If I say "the Rachel" I'd bet you know what I'm talking about. Then there was the exhaustive year, circa 1970-something, that I spent fashioning my Farrah flips.
Who could forget that line uttered by Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. "Ya know I work on my hair a long time and you hit it. He hits my hair."
Anyway, I asked my Headitor what I needed done this time around. She shot for a bottle of $28.00 conditioner, the latest and greatest in taming the testiest of tresses. "We're gonna need at least an hour to get this situation under control," she said. In the end no hairs were split or left unturned.
And that's the buzz for now, gang.
Got me to thinking about this culture of ours. Left or Right, Yanks or Mets, personal preferences aside; there's one thing upon which we can surely agree.
We are a society that is follicularly fixated.
Evidence can be found almost everywhere. Take Broadway, where the musical "Hair" debuted in 1967 and is still being performed in revivals to this very day. And what about that famous fairy tale "Rapunzel?" That chick had an enviable (albeit tangled) mane. If I say "the Rachel" I'd bet you know what I'm talking about. Then there was the exhaustive year, circa 1970-something, that I spent fashioning my Farrah flips.
Who could forget that line uttered by Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. "Ya know I work on my hair a long time and you hit it. He hits my hair."
Anyway, I asked my Headitor what I needed done this time around. She shot for a bottle of $28.00 conditioner, the latest and greatest in taming the testiest of tresses. "We're gonna need at least an hour to get this situation under control," she said. In the end no hairs were split or left unturned.
And that's the buzz for now, gang.
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