by Bella Rum
I got my hair cut yesterday. The shop is in a small, historical town that’s about ten minutes from my house. Virginia has a plethora of small historical towns. You can’t spin a top without bumping into a half-dozen.
It’s been a long time since I went to an upscale salon. For the past four or five years, I’ve gone to an old lady salon, and the prices reflected that. Back in the day, I used to go to a fairly chic place in West Annapolis. That’s if you define chic as overpriced.
Price-wise, this new place is in between the pricy salon I went to in Annapolis (for a short while) and the inexpensive place I’ve gone for the last five years, and it has a very different flavor. In fact, it’s different from most salons I’ve seen.
It’s located in a glorified alley. All of the buildings in the town are probably a couple of hundred years old, and some have been converted to businesses. I’ve been inside most of them, and they are charming. Still I wasn’t ready for what I found when I stepped through the door. It didn’t feel like a salon at all. It didn’t feel like a business, and there was nothing sleek or shiny in sight, no black or pink, and not a single photo of a woman sporting a funky hairstyle graced the walls.
It was like stepping into someone’s living room. There was a cozy and intimate feel to the place. One wall was exposed brick, the original wide-planked floors glistened, the stylists’ stations were vintage dressers with the original mirrors. They were painted with chalk paint and glaze. Their supplies were hidden inside the drawers. Only the chairs let the cat out of the bag. It’s a small place and there are only three stylists. Everyone talks to everyone – three cutters and three clients. It’s one big gal fest.
Now the important thing. The cut. I love it! Brooke was the young woman who cut my hair. I gave her a photo of the cut that I wanted, and she interpreted it well.
It’s suitable for an old lady like me, but sassy enough for a younger woman. I can blow it dry, or I can do some fun things with product. It will only take a couple of minutes to style it.
She gave me 20% off and said that Sandy, the lady I found in the grocery store, would also get 20% off for the recommendation. Good business practice.
When she finished, she insisted that I look at the back. She said, “See what I did. It doesn’t come straight down like an old-lady cut. Um. Forgive me.” I said, “Don’t apologize. I know I had the helmet cut. That’s why I came to you.”
When I left, she asked if she could keep the picture.