Haircuts
July 10, 2025
I have forgotten many things that were once important in my life. And I have remembered a lot of things that weren’t. Take haircuts, for example.
As a child I had very thick hair. Phil, my mother’s haircut person, always had to use thinning shears on my hair. Before that, my hair was always in two neat, be-ribboned pigtails. I remember well when my mother decided that the pigtails should go, and she and my Aunt Ruth literally chopped them off as braids. Those braids remained stashed in a brown paper bag in our dining room buffet for years.
I had several non-memorable haircutters (at least one was named Chuck), and then for more than forty years, Kelly was my hairdresser. She probably knew more of my secret thoughts than any of my close friends. When she moved out of the city, I followed her until a few years ago when the 45-minute drive each way seemed just too long. It was a tearful parting.
Post-Kelly, I had my haircut by a perfectionist for a couple of years. Honestly, I think he cut one strand of hair at a time. The half-hour drive plus the two-hour haircut finally became too much.
Now I go to Young. I’m in and out of her salon in 30 minutes.
That works for me.