Is there anything better than getting your hair done? Last Thursday I sat in a noted hair salon in Fairfield County and looked around. A sea of heads sat at a row of sinks in various stages of color and cuts. Blonde heads beside brunette, with a newly lavender head thrown in. Chatter filled the salon as hairstylists and colorists chatted with their clients. Everyone was in a good mood. Everyone. Maybe they’d had horrendous weeks. Maybe their boyfriend had cheated on them, or their test results had come back positive. Perhaps their sons were failing high school, or their daughters were pregnant.
But here, in this den of optimism, lives were stalled for an hour or two as hope made them temporarily (or lastingly?) beautiful. Thin hair had bounce. Grey hair had color. Curls showed up where straight had been king. Whatever the hope, whatever the wish, it was granted for a brief period of time. And for a time, we all believed that it would last. God, I love having my hair done.