I decided to get back to my roots and return to my brunette beginnings after 10-plus years as a blonde. Call it “Mission Impossible,” as going from bleach blond to dark brown is harder than you think. Thankfully, I was in good hands and even made a new friend in the process.
I decided to get back to my roots and return to my brunette beginnings after 10-plus years as a blonde.
Call it “Mission Impossible,” as going from bleach blond to dark brown is harder than you think. Thankfully, I was in good hands and even made a new friend in the process.
Being a do-it-yourselfer box blonde for way too long, I had to enlist the services of a professional colorist for such a drastic change. I secured an appointment and shuffled in a little embarrassed about the straw on my head that I called hair. Undaunted, the stylist fixed what needed fixing, cut what needed cutting and transformed my hair into a soft mass of dark chestnut locks. It was a magical experience.
I left the exclusive salon with a sense of wonderment about my new hair. But also I discovered something I’ve been missing all these years: the friendship of a hair professional.
For many years, I have listened to other’s women’s stories of their friendships with their stylists. They go to each other’s weddings and birthday parties. Everyone just loves, loves, loves their hairdresser. Talented stylists are like movie stars, complete with their own groupies.
I get it now. I joined the love, love, love my hairdresser club. It starts with small talk, followed by personal questions about your town, partner and kids. Commonalities are realized, leading to understanding and bouts of laughter.
The four hours in the chair (yes, four hours; told you my hair was in a bad place) wasn’t just about my hair. It became more about the female bonding experience. When I walked in I was a needy – OK, desperate – client at the mercy of a stranger. I left happy with the work of a skilled professional, and happier to have made the acquaintance of a new friend. We shared business cards, smiles and hugs before we parted.
The Patriot Ledger