I got my hair done yesterday at one of those big city salons. Just the sort of place that one would envision in a cosmopolitan city. European techno music, all stylists in black...you know the sort of place. These salons are like a foreign country to me, complete with customs of their own. I am just enough of a country girl, that I haven't completely absorbed these customs. I am not used to the concept of a shampoo girl, or wearing a robe provided by the salon. My inner redneck didn't know how to handle removing one's clothes and donning a robe for a haircut...What for? All your clothes? The latter custom was the most troubling to me; and I'm pretty sure I came to the wrong conclusion in pondering how to handle this request.
As I was sitting under the hairdryer in my little robe, bare (pale) legs crossed.....I was feeling pretty hotsy-totsy. Thought I had this whole sa-lon thing figured out. Then I noticed I was the only client without pants. Mind you I was decent in my robe, but nonetheless I was pretty embarrassed. Might as well have put a spotlight on me and name tag reading: "Hi. My name is: Country Mouse." All the other girls had apparently figured out that you were only supposed to remove your top and wear the robe over you pants....not just your underwear, for cryin' out loud!
Well, hell. I paid a pretty penny for that darn haircut. If I want sit around in my skivvies while Lorenzo works his magic, so be it. At least my hair looks good.
P.S. I dedicate this blog to my Mom...who will laugh hysterically because this definitely sounds like something her daughter would do.
1 comment:
Our parents can know us so well.
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