Vanity

I love my hair lady, but she's in Bakersfield, so I have to move on. Before Hanh, that's my dream hair girl, I never got my hair cut professionally. Growing up, my mom cut my hair. All I remember is hours staring at the 70's yellow and brown linoleum in the kitchen and occasionally getting my head yanked this way and that. But don't worry, she knew what she was doing, and my hair always looked great for free. When I got older, and Mom wasn't around to lop off my nasty split-ends, I started wearing more hats. It seemed easier to simply hide my hippy hair than to have to search out a stylist that didn't hack it off into angles I never knew existed. Ironically, I only gave in to my fear of the professional stylist when my husband suggested I try his favorite hair cutter, Hanh. I only wished I had given in before my wedding day! Hanh and I gelled like, well Elvis Presley's hair, and I've discovered a whole new world of good hair days with her.

But now I'm in Phoenix. And my Hanh is not in Phoenix. You'd think that a big city would be a good thing for hair cuts, right? Not for me. It only makes the process of finding someone decent that much more intimidating. In fact I got a hair cut right before I moved here, and I have put off finding someone for three months. However, the time has come and in order to do Hanh justice I have to search as thoroughly as possible and find someone to maintain the locks she so aptly styled.

Which leads me to the first prospect. I've driven by a cute place called Floyd's 99 Barbershop a few times, but I thought it was just for men. But a flier in the mail (which included a half-off coupon) informed me that, in fact, it was not just for men. So, after checking out the Website that claimed the shop was "hip and fun" I called ahead and made an appointment for this afternoon. When I got there I was greeted by about five people, and one of them said,"I'll do it." The others looked at her like, "are you sure?", and my stomach started flip-flopping. It didn't help when she responded with, "Yeah, it's just a trim."

CRAP!
CRAP!CRAP!CRAP!

But what could I do? She was the only available stylist. Apparently, the other four were just there to overzealously greet unsuspecting customers. I sat down in the chair, and I prayed that the gut feeling I had about this lady was completely false. We chatted a bit about what I wanted, which of course I don't really know, she's the professional, shouldn't she be suggesting what works best for me and my hair type? Maybe you only get that kind of treatment when you're on What Not To Wear. After the vague "what I want" discussion, she went to work wetting my hair. Even though the shop boasts a shampoo sink at every single station, she freaking used a water bottle and ended up spraying my whole face! Hanh used to start every haircut with a relaxing shampoo and scalp massage.

Then she started chopping my hair off in what looked to be a very haphazard manner. It was about halfway thru the chopping that she casually mentioned she normally cuts men's hair. CRAPOLA!!!

But what could I do? She had already begun the cut, there was no backing out now. I prayed harder that God would miraculously mend her ineptitude so that she could give me a decent cut. What made matters worse is that she smelled like cigarettes, and she jerked my head around more violently than my mom did. Hanh always smelled delicious and she gently guided my hair and head to the positions necessary.

When she completed the chop job, she proceeded to give a large explanation of what she had done and how it was just what I wanted. Then, with my hair still wet, she just kind of stood there. Suddenly, she had a thought. "Mousse," she said, then realizing she doesn't have any at her own station,"Oh, let me go find some." Hanh never used mousse in my hair.

Upon her return, she plopped a bucket of mousse onto my tiny head of very thin hair and started stringing it through my locks. At this point, I was thinking to myself, normally when I use mousse it ends up turning my hair into a greasy brick, but maybe she knows a trick I don't. But the next thing I know, she's blow-drying my hair for all of six seconds, then sending me on my way - with butt-ugly hair! Hanh always styled my hair when she finished the cut, and I walked out of her salon feeling hot and sexy.

When I walked out of Floyd's 99 I did not feel like a rock star, as their Website claimed I would. Instead, I felt like an idiot, with a greasy brick on her head!

Needless to say, I will not be returning!