So a couple of weeks ago my mom came with me for my wedding-day hair trial run with a gal named Cassandra who'd come highly recommended by my cousin, Shannon. The name of her salon is Technicolor, and before we arrived I asked my mom, "So what do you want to bet you and I aren't exactly going to fit in at this place?" Sure enough, it was one of those trendy salons with white, industrial loft interior walls accented by support beams painted a bright orange. Andy Warhol-inspired artwork adorned the walls, and the lobby even had those big spherical chairs that you literally sit IN--like Mork's big egg. We walked in and the receptionist was dressed all in black, had multiple piercings on her face, tattoos-a-plenty, jet black hair, and maroon bangs cut in a blunt line across her forehead. The girl coming out as we walked in had obviously just touched up her fire engine red dye job. So, basically, Mom and I looked like Mary and Laura Ingalls dropping in at the Headbanger's Ball. We waited a few minutes and then Cassandra came out to meet us. I admit a very mild and fleeting moment of panic, imagining myself walking down the aisle with a bleach-blonde mohawk, but it only took a few short minutes to realize that Cassandra--as well as everyone else in the shop, for that matter--was nice as can be. Before we knew it, we and the other black-clad, nose-pierced, fishnet-wearing girls were swapping stories and gossiping about celebrities like we were all old friends.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
One of These is Not Like the Others
So a couple of weeks ago my mom came with me for my wedding-day hair trial run with a gal named Cassandra who'd come highly recommended by my cousin, Shannon. The name of her salon is Technicolor, and before we arrived I asked my mom, "So what do you want to bet you and I aren't exactly going to fit in at this place?" Sure enough, it was one of those trendy salons with white, industrial loft interior walls accented by support beams painted a bright orange. Andy Warhol-inspired artwork adorned the walls, and the lobby even had those big spherical chairs that you literally sit IN--like Mork's big egg. We walked in and the receptionist was dressed all in black, had multiple piercings on her face, tattoos-a-plenty, jet black hair, and maroon bangs cut in a blunt line across her forehead. The girl coming out as we walked in had obviously just touched up her fire engine red dye job. So, basically, Mom and I looked like Mary and Laura Ingalls dropping in at the Headbanger's Ball. We waited a few minutes and then Cassandra came out to meet us. I admit a very mild and fleeting moment of panic, imagining myself walking down the aisle with a bleach-blonde mohawk, but it only took a few short minutes to realize that Cassandra--as well as everyone else in the shop, for that matter--was nice as can be. Before we knew it, we and the other black-clad, nose-pierced, fishnet-wearing girls were swapping stories and gossiping about celebrities like we were all old friends.
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2 comments:
I really looking forward to Cassandra doing my hair. I think she'll come up with something classy but with a touch of funk to it. Don't want to be boring, now!
She's really a sweet person, and today in my second run-through she did a fabulous job. I LOVE the hairstyle. It's classic and sort of retro, but with a little funkiness here and there. She'll do a great job on everyone, I'm sure. (But she was wearing another skin-tight, slitted black skirt--this one festooned with black lace trim. :)
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