As I write this, my hair’s in a ponytail. (Well, it’s not long enough for a ponytail, really – think of it more as a pony tuft.) The point is, I’m no longer in high school (shocking, I know) and have long since outgrown my default hairstyle, the classic easy-care ’do of the Young and the Lineless.
But I have a disorder. I’m Hair-Impaired.
You think I’m kidding? Well, here’s proof of what happens when I try to handle things myself:
Not a pretty sight, is it?
So, even though I have “good hair” (meaning it’s thick, which drives me crazy, but the grass is always greener…), I usually wear it in – cue the threatening bass line – barrettes.
(Horse not included.)
My best friend has been my best friend for 40 (gulp!) years but she’s been, shall we say, speaking her mind about my affinity for barrettes for pretty much all of them. I cling to my barrettes, though. I love them.
Although even barrettes can’t help when it’s a windy day and one is growing out one’s bangs…
(Horse still not included.)
The bottom line is this: I needed help. A “hair intervention,” if you will. Oh, I’ve gone to various stylists over the years. They’ve used straighteners and curling irons and sera and created all manner of au courant hairstyles that look like someone else’s head has been Photoshopped onto my body.
For the hour after I leave the salon, anyway.
As soon as I get home, the barrettes go back in.
Enter Hal at Jolie Salon. Not only is he delightful company – my inner catty bee-yotch comes out as we rip apart reality TV “stars” together – he knows his way around hair. Even MY hair.
He uses a technique that I thought only existed on makeover shows and Project Runway: he zhuzhes it. Spellcheck doesn’t recognize it yet, but apparently “to zhuzh” is a verb meaning “to perform some mysterious alchemy on a head, using no special tools, making the hair look put-together and lovely.”
Proof? You want proof? Allow me to present Exhibit A:
This picture was taken with the same cell phone camera as the others, hours after Hal had done my hair for the very first time. I hadn’t put the barrettes back in!
All he used was a blow dryer and some hairspray, things I have and use on a daily basis. The only problem is, I can’t zhuzh my own hair. Hal must have taken Advanced Zhuzhing in stylist school.
I’ve decided that if I ever become a famous author, making appearances on talk shows and having worldwide book tours (hey, a girl can dream), I’m going to be a diva. Not about the size or color of my dressing room. Not about the snacks therein, or the brand of bottled water I have.
About Hal. I’ll insist that he be flown in to wherever I am to perform his magic.
After all, a girl needs to a good hair-zhuzhing every now and then.