Hair Model

I can forgo many things but I cannot skimp out on haircuts, skin care products and toilet paper (Charmin, anyone?)

So several months ago I was picking up base, make-up remover, and moisturizer at a department store, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I thought it was a saleslady trying to sell me a product. I wasn't going to buy anything besides the three things I came to get. I whooped around to face a blonde lady in her late-thirties/early-forties.

"Excuse me, but I had to comment."

I raised my eyebrows. What was this lady going to tell me?

"You have the best layered haircut I've seen on anyone."

"Oh, thank you. It's very nice of you to say that."

"I really mean it. Did you get your hair done around here?"

This launched us into a conversation about hair and hair stylists. I told the lady that I had just moved from Asia and had been introduced to an awesome hair stylist here in Los Angeles. The lady told me she was visiting from New York. She asked me if I could let her in on the name of the stylist. It wasn't top secret information or anything. I gave her the name of the stylist, Jerome, and the name of the salon he was with.

"Thank-you very much," the lady said. "People are so private about these things. You've been quite helpful."

I forgot about the lady. I also forgot about Jerome for awhile. Back in Korea, my hair-designer, Young, had been a good friend for over 5 years. I had the color of my hair, the length, and the style changed every six weeks. It was pure joy. Here, in California, I decided to grow out my hair again because it would be more cost-efficient. I did the math and decided I could afford to go to the salon every four to five months. When it grew out, I could go every six months.

This morning I went to the salon to get my hair cut. It was getting messy and I couldn't stand it anymore. I made the appointment a week in advance and as Monday approached, I could find my footsteps getting lighter. By the time I walked into the salon at 11:30 am this morning, I had a huge smile slapped onto my face. After I sat down on the chair, Jerome asked me how the last haircut went.

"Fantastic. I loved it. In fact, a lady visiting from New York, stopped me one day and told me that it was the best haircut she'd ever seen."

"Oh!" Jerome said in his french accent, "she dropped by."

"What?"

"The same lady. She came looking for me. In early December? She told me that she met a girl who had just moved from Asia who had a fabulous haircut. I remembered you, because I don't have many customers who just moved from Asia."

"That's great. I can't believe she actually came. She actually came?"

"Yes, she wanted me to layer her hair like yours," he paused. "You are a good hair model."

Jerome's comment made me secretly smile - which is the best kind of smile. He's not a people pleaser, and he has high aesthetic standards. Ah, my French hair stylist called me a good hair model. It's shallow but I savored the compliment. I'm still savoring it. I'm a good hair model. Lalalala ~