WEEK 50
My last hair cut was December 28, 2019. Not only pre-pandemic but the prior decade. I am so overdue for a cut that my hair has developed its own needy personality, like a small child who lives constantly attached to my head. Some days the hair-child is well behaved, a swirl of curls smiling back at me with a nice sheen, all moving in the right direction. Yet most days, said curls wake up cranky, and before they have a chance to start complaining, I mute them into a pile, Kewpie-doll style atop my head.
If only I had done that minor in cosmetology…
This week’s post is not about my attempt at a self hair-cut. I would be in tears on the floor. And I’ve been warned that only a trained professional can tackle my mess.
No, this week’s post is about my first time cutting my wife’s hair. To be clear, cutting any hair.
Irena has gorgeous tresses, baby-bottom soft, a rich chestnuty brown with golden tones, falling past her shoulders in a light wave. Her hair is glamorous. One of her best and most treasured features. So yeah, I’m nervous. I am not even good at braiding.
We started making plans a couple of weeks ago to take matters into our own hands – for cut and color – when (not if … we’re getting smart at this game) the already twice-extended shelter-in-place orders get re-extended.
Our first step was procurement. And as I’ve come to expect in the current environment, it’s procurement that drives the day. Hair shears? On back order. Color applicator brushes? Out of stock. My appreciation for hairdressers and colorists has been forever altered.
As luck would have it, the scissors and brushes arrived first (still no color kits as of this writing), so I laid the scissors in my hand and got to know them a bit. They were introduced online as handmade (a 52-step process no less) using Japanese stainless steel and other capitalized words like Cobalt Alloy, getting rave reviews for sharpness and feel of the cut. Having no mannequin to practice on chez nous, I snipped a few scraps of paper. Good control. Balanced. Smooth. I think we chose well.
Irena has had her New York-based stylist, we’ll call her FT, on speed dial, and she’s game to guide us through a live cut over FaceTime. So, on Monday morning, shortly after finishing our cappuccinos, Irena’s phone buzzes with a text, and she says FT is ready. Now? Now? I cram a 2-minute video tutorial.
There is no time to feel anxious. We quickly set up a mini-salon (complete with the April issue of Vogue) and beamed FT’s smiling face (and, I should add, great hair and leopard-print robe) onto the iPad. We got right down to business. I mean, my client and I don’t have much new news to catch up on.
I noticed right away that FT would be an expert guide, as she positioned me and my clumsy hands in sectioning Irena’s hair, which took a few tries given my spatial ineptness.
We started the cut on the back. I picked up the comb and scissors – never succeeding in holding both simultaneously by the way – and combed down a section. We decided on two inches. I measured against the folds in my finger, took a deep breath and made the first cut. FT could even hear the snip through the phone – ear candy to a stylist, she said.
We had our length guide, and I let out my exhale. FT and I moved through the remaining sections, always tracking alongside what we had cut. At the shoulder, I made sure, as instructed, that Irena’s hair landed in its natural plumb line. My coach called out little reminders as I worked: Stand in front of the section you are cutting. Cut against her back, not in the air. I was really doing this.
When we got to the face frame, FT said bluntly (with only a smidgen of encouragement) that this would be tricky for me, but we could do it. I learned a little head and face anatomy on the fly, then combed Irena’s hair forward, Cousin ITT style. FT lined me up to make a cut along her chin and then, on each side, in an angled arc. Snip, snip, snip and we were done: The Quarantine Healthy Hair Trim.
My client looked in the mirror, smiled a big smile and tipped me in kisses.
After buying all the necessary instruments, Jason and Jacob forbid me from cutting their hair. I was so looking forward to it! Dad used to cut my brothers’ hair when we were young. I remember them sitting in the kitchen on a high stool when he did it. But, salons have opened, and the boys got their hair cut. I am going to wait a little longer. That cosmetology minor is sounding pretty good now.
Are you thinking of a new career? And where are the before and after finished product photographs? Good fun. And besides no one is going anywhere to need glamour and hair luckily does grow. The color is next?