Saturday, December 16, 2006

Divercity and expensive (but fabulous) hair

It would be hard to be racist in New York. I had six hours of hair rescue to think about this. Remember the hair turning green experience? Well, it seemed the hair never really recovered and was 'translucent'. Which is VERY BAD.

Since then it has gone through various evil stages of home-artistry...

Giovanni, stylist (genius) - Dominican Republic. I trust Giovanni, she was referred by my roommate. But there was a slight twinge of doubt when she says "I have NEVER seen anything like this." I think it was the tri-colour of bleach yellow, orange and brown. Like a rust stain.

Stylist #2 - Chile. She is sick of people in New York who claim to be from Italy, Ireland or wherever, because their grandparents were from there. "They're New Yorkers!" She says. But what about the man who was born in France, has been in the city 10 years and calls himself a New Yorker. "Not a chance," she says.

At about midday I'm famished and ask if there is anywhere to get some food. "Of course darling!" A whole bunch of take-out menus lands in my lap. I order the Thai pork roll and eucalyptus and honey drink, for my cold. They deliver while I'm being toned, for the third time. Which doesn't work. The greeny blonde turns metal grey.

Washer - Brazilian. Wants to go to Montreal to learn French. We spend quite a bit of quality time together. He gets to wash my hair at least three times, and help with the colors as Giovanni helps her other customers. He is gay. He doesn't believe in marriage, even when it's legal for gay people. I tell him that, statistically, people who get married live longer and have happier lives. He gives me a hug when I finally leave. We bonded.

Expensive hair cut should be listed with the other things that define one as a 'grown up', like having kids or owning houses. Before expensive haircuts, either your parents decided and paid , or you went cheap to save money for University (beer/rent) or other activities (overseas travel). I can't see myself going back to home jobs...but the decision makes me feel melancholy...

When the hair finally went blonde instead of steel grey, Giovanni calls out "GOD BLESS AMERICA!"

So here it is. Straightened, of course. With, as a comparison, a picture drawn of me by a supposedly famous artist at a party on Thursday night. I was with a French/Danish writer and his Iranian psychiatrist friend. The picture is now in the bin/trash/rubbish.

The salon is having a Christmas party tonight, my new multi-American friends. I may take my new maturity along for a few irresponsible drinks....

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