Free is a Four Letter Word

I love free. It is my favorite price for everything. I especially love it now that I am out of work. When I used to live in Seattle I went to get my hair done at Gene Juarez Training Salon where they had 2nd year students working on clients for a very low price. Fifteen dollars for a full cut and color; twenty-five for a foil. Not too bad and the students were pretty good too.

My Miss Clairol box hair color was fading out like a trailer court whore and if I want to move forward with meeting an interesting man or two, I gotta feel good about my hair. I am a Leo after all. And while I don't identify with all the traditional Leo traits, I am fully engaged with the look of my hair. My priest, Father Damien has been cutting it for the last six months or more and he's been doing a great job too, but he is far, far away from me now.

Anne found on Craigslist, an ad for a hair model at 7 Salon which is a very hip, high-end hair studio in the most expensive retail space, Pacific Place, in downtown Seattle. I decided to give them a call. What could it hurt? My hair couldn't look any worse than when I did it myself. I love having my hair professionally colored but had a real hard time shelling out the $125 for a process that needed to be done every 4-6 weeks.

My sisters and I were all born blonds but my hair turned to chestnut brown by the age of 4 and by the age of 15 I started turning gray. That was the year of Three Mile Island and we lived in our basement for a couple of weeks glued to the news to see if the world still existed outside of our house. Mom probably shouldn't have taken us to see "China Syndrome" during that whole affair either. When we exited the movie theater there were about dozen newspaper reporters and photographers to catch the faces of those poor people living within the five mile radius of the power plant. Mom told us not to talk to the media, but I couldn't resist. And I didn't really understand what was going on until I saw that movie which really wasn't a good idea, Mom. Oh well...

Art imitating life. Life imitating art.

I've been going gray ever since. Oh sure, there are a lot of other things that happened too following that event...like mom growing an extra Thyroid organ. It baffled the doctors that a woman could grown an extra organ. She recently had the inoperative extra thyroid removed but I think she started growing it because mine stopped working. That's a nice thought but I am really sure it is because of her well and the ground water she drinks. While she is upstream from the power plant, radiation is invisible. Who knows what kind of damage that place has done to her. I got the hell out of Harrisburg PA by the time I turned 18 and I didn't go back (except for one brief stint in my early 20's following my apprenticeship in Italy) for 20 years.

What amazes me about returning to an area that I'd fled so long ago, was that they were still playing the same music as when I left. Billy Joel's "Just the Way You Are" was still getting airplay. I notice that about my return to Seattle too...the same music is popular as when I left. There is nothing wrong with angry alternative music, but I just don't identify with it anymore. I wonder when the pounding beats of Miami will leave my subconsciouses.

Pounding beats are what greet you at 7 Salon. It is the only hair studio that I have been to that employs a full-time barista and DJ. They have a swank program for their stylists that include another year of training following the two year Gene Juarez Training Salon. Everyone is dressed in trendy black and white (although silver is the new black, but I won't tell them yet) and when greeted at the door, you are handed a sensual smock and hanger by the full-time coat-check person. Your latte will be made while you change.

Sweet!

I changed and was guided by my student, Glenn, who was in his last month of training before his final which included doing 4 models in one day. I was a perfect model because of the massive amount of gray hair I have plus trying to cover my bad dye job. There was no other option but for me to look great. I was in good hands.

The students consult with their clients/models and then en mass they gather around each hair model to discuss with the instructor and in front of the group what they will be doing to the hair. I was last of the eight models/clients and Glenn was prepared.

"My model is 90% gray on top and in the front." He announces to the group.

"Yikes!" slips out of my mouth and the instructor frowns at me. Hair models are to be seen and not heard.

"We are going to do an aggressive color repair, as you can see the damage that she has done to herself using over-the-counter hair color." He goes on confidently.

I could see how defensive I was getting in the chair as my thoughts raced to explain my poor hair color and condition and I had not prepared myself for the public humiliation. I recently gave up humiliation for lent and decided to not take it back-up after Easter. And what with my employment history and all that crap that happened at Whole Foods and my visit to the mental institution...wasn't I allowed to have bad hair once in my life?

See. I'm still defensive about my hair. Let it go Linda, let it go!

Glenn combs my hair over to the other side to show the class all my gray growth and he goes on. "We need to not only create a new color, we have to restore the damage done by the sun and pool damage." That's true, I thought. I was in the pool every day before I came to Seattle. Oh god how I missed being warm and in the sun...~sigh~

"I was thinking of using 5NG and 5NS before covering her with 5NG." The teacher makes a tutting sound and sucks in some air through his teeth before saying, "Do any of you have another suggestion?"

My confidence in my soon to be graduating Glenn was fleeing quickly.

"I might use a level 4NG because of the massive amount of gray and its resistance plus I'd want to sure the front and the back were going to match." A pretty platinum blond student said.

Yeah Glenn, had you thought about that, I thought to myself. Didn't you want the front and back of my head match? When were you going to think about that, Glenn? Were you just going to make my hair two different tones? What were you thinking Glenn? Geeze! Everybody knows that you need to use a level down for the really hard grays which never want to color and a higher level for the new non-gray growth in back. Is GlennGlenn anymore! Did you change your name to Glenn to be cool? There hasn't been a popular Glenn since Glenn Campbell and why the fuck are you studying hair, Glenn? Are you going to make me a freak, Glenn? God Glenn, pull your head out of your ass, man. THIS IS MY HAIR WE ARE TALKING ABOUT!!! You're not cool Glenn...EVERYBODY SAYS SO!!!

~ahem~

Glenn listens to the advice his fellow student gives and the instructor says, "She's right Glenn. What did we learn?"

Glenn says, "That gray take a different level and time because of the lack of pigment and the resistance to accepting color."

"That's right. Now what are you going to do?" asks the instructor.

"I'm going to use a 4NGS in the front, the 5NG in the back and readjust the overall color using a 5NPS." Glenn says.

"Good decision. Write it down." says the instructor. I liked him. Stay close, I thought to myself. I may need you soon!

Glenn writes down the information from the consultation and the group disperses to mix their color and get ready for processing and I settle down and pray.

even your real name? Who even names their kids Dear Kindest God,

I know we haven't formally spoken in a while and I am sorry about that. Sometimes I forget where you are and I know that is a lame excuse but it's true. Forgive me? Thanks!

I gotta ask a favor. I'm here hoping that you'll watch out for Glenn and what he's gonna do with my hair today. I know, it's a shallow request and I am so grateful for my legs that work, my lungs that can breath in the beautiful air, my eyes that can see all the love and beauty around me...and seriously God...make sure Glenn doesn't fuck up my hair, okay? Do it for him! Think how good he'll feel if he does a good job! Forget about me God, let's focus on Glenn.

Okay, I see he's got a bunch of stuff for my hair coming this way so I'm gonna go. Let's do it for Glenn God. Keep his mixing skills primed and thanks for the free lattes and the little chocolates they brought with my bottled water. That was a nice touch and I feel pretty lucky, a bit like a princess. Thanks God. Nice manifestation!
Ashey. Namaste.

Glenn brings the smelly formula to his work station and started applying it to my roots. I watch cautiously thinking to myself, "Do the front first Glenn....those are the hardest roots to take. Let it go Linda! Trust him! Let it go!" I practice some deep breathing exercises to ease the beginning of an anxiety attack I feel rising in my belly.

It's just hair. It's just hair, I think to myself. Read the pretty fashion magazine! I pick up the latest issue of Vogue and distract myself looking at anorexic models dressed in overpriced denim hot pants and thin sheer tank tops. When will I ever be able to put on a pair of shorts again...it's so cold! I forget about Glenn and my hair and drift away into the photos and advertisements.

Glenn says, "Time to go under the dryer so those roots really take hold." He spins the chair around and leads me to a space-age gigantic conference table that can seat twenty in over-sized office chairs. The dryer units are coiled pads on a hydraulics system high above the chairs that are lowered and wrap around your head. They are silent so I can hear the DJ jamming while radiant heat surrounds my head like a halo. Time passes quickly. Glenn collects me to add more color to the rest of my head and finish the process.

"How do you think it's gonna look?" I ask him while waiting for the process to finish.

"I think it'll be good." he says in an almost question form. I'm not convinced. He needs to work on his bedside manor, I think to myself. A woman in the chair needs a lot of confidence from the hairdresser to come through...especially when there is a process happening on her head. I make a mental note and remind myself to tell him that later when we're finished.

He taps my shoulder and says, "Ready to rinse?" I nod and follow him to the the sinks. Warm water showers over my processed hair and he gives me a gentle scalp massage when the conditioner is applied. "How's it looking?" I ask.

"Shhhhh. Relax." he says and finishes the massage rubbing my neck. Okay. It's out of my hands now anyway.

He dries my head and leads me back to the chair, steps away from me and returns with three round brushes of various sizes, several hair products, a hair dryer, flat iron and comb. He spritzes my head with cucumber water and smears smelly gel all over my head. Spinning me away from the mirror, he proceeds to dry my hair pulling my hair out and down.

I have been told by all of my hairdressers over the years that I have enough hair for two, if not three people. I got the thick, wavy Italian hair that is rich and lush. Drying my hair can take a full calendar year. I had my hair dried and straightened in Durham North Carolina once. It took my lovely hairdresser 11/2 hrs just to dry it before bringing on the flat iron. Poor thing. I think she needed a blood transfusion when she was finished. She was a tiny thing and it took all the life out of her that day. She never offered to straighten my hair again.

Part of the training program at Salon 7 is to dry the hair out straight so the teacher can see what the color looks like and grade the student. Glenn's instructor comes over and watches him dry my hair. He asks me, "How do you like it so far?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen it yet." I reply. I wasn't facing the mirror as he worked, he had me spun towards the windows so I was watching the lunch crowds streaming out of office buildings below.

"Glenn, your client cannot see herself or what you are doing. When you are a stylist at Salon 7, the client must always be able to see themselves. She is not facing the mirror. Why have you done this?" he asks coldly.

"I couldn't reach this part of her head when she was sitting forward." he says.

"You have to learn how to work with your equipment and fix your own obstacles. Think about her! Think about her not able to see what you're doing!" Glenn immediately stops and spins the chair forward. The teacher shakes his head and walks off. Poor Glenn. Being scolded in front of a your model is tough! Hang tight little one I think to myself.

He finishes drying and straightening my hair so the smooth, chocolate brown locks shine in the salon lights.

"Wow." I say. I am speechless. It is the most beautiful color ever. "Nice work Glenn!" I say.

He beams. The instructor returns and says, "Well done Glenn. That was a real hair challenge and you did an excellent job. Good work." Glenn smiles relaxing for the first time since the hair challenge began.

He puts some finishing spritzes of hair spray on my head and walks me to the coat check guy to fetch my belongings. "I have my final on May 19th if you'd like to be one of my models...you may need a touch-up by then." Glenn says to me.

"Thanks again Glenn. I really love the color." and I give him a little kiss on the cheek. Thank you God!

I changed and walked out confidently. Spending three hours of free time in the chair was definitely worth it! Thanks for the tip Anne.

So much love
All the way from the land of beautiful hair,
Linda