Fart Day Saturday, Apr 24 2010 

Around these parts, 7 days is just not enough time to fit in all the beauties who wish to be further beautified or simply maintain their beauty.

Long ago the 8th day was implemented at hair world.

I applied for a special permit I found on the back of a match book and after taking a personality test that showed that not only was I driven, obsessive, compelled, and a Type A to the 3rd degree, I was told that there were 12-step groups for folks like me and I was well positioned to receive an 8th day, and to look for the license that would be in the mail soon.

It was a little challenging trying to fit in an extra day each week on the calendar that the mayans had been working on for some time, but I didn’t go to beauty school for nuthin’ and I found a way to make it work. For the most part that extra day was related to admin, but every now and then it was another day de beaute.

Really, it’s the perfect day in the salon since most folks don’t have that day on their calendar so it’s often peaceful and we all would be running on time. It’s perfect for more hair removal, hair colour and well ….. farting.

Farting can be a real happening in the salon, it can mix well with the scent of perm solution, hair laquer even acrylic nails.

At Simone, farting has become a full contact sport. I’m not talking about the random odiferous elderly client, or a brutal case of coffee breath while in the shampoo bowl.

Okay, l realize I’m on a tangent but what the heck. Let me take a moment to address this beauty faux pas before I go any further. THERE IS NO NEED TO SCREAM WHEN IN THE SHAMPOO BOWL HAVING YOUR HAIR WASHED. We can hear you, just fine… and often times, so can everyone else.

Consider yourself forewarned. We can ALL hear every little word just fine, we’ve heard all the details: of your all night fete’ with Fausto, or how that hussy juked you on the mah jong team or how the kids are driving you crazy and you had to take up shop-lifting to take the edge off. Etc etc etc.

We’ve heard it ALL and it frequently begins creeping out at the shampoo bowl while those hot wet soapy slippery hands are massaging your scalp and neck and temples and ears and the thought bubbles come flowing right out of your mouth.

Okay, back to Farting

I’m talking about the almost constant noxious fumes that hover around Babette and Maurice; my French Bulldogs.

I had heard about this potentially embarrassing dog trait over the years, and had been warned in the early days when I was thinking ‘Frenchie’, but never having a dog of my own, I thought it pure folly.

Now, these glorious breaths are a part of my every day life. I have learned to embrace this part of the Frenchie charm. I admit, it did take quite a while to get used to. For months clients would have strange pinched looks on their faces while having their hair done or while in the waiting area. I did have some concern that everyone I got near suddenly had eaten head cheese, road kill or a rancid egg. Well, truth be told, my clients were FOUL. Then one day a brave Super woman (I’ll call her super Betty) forcefully exclaimed, “THAT IS NOT ME!”.

Well it sure as heck wasn’t me. We all turned a hairy eye ball to Maurice,

and sweet as you please, looking just like baby jesus, he let one rip on cue.

AH HA!  The suspect had been found. There is a god, we all were able to breathe (with a gas masks on) a huge sigh of relief. I felt waves of love, and then guilt for secretly blaming my poor helpless clients for what was now clearly an attack of the French Brigade.

As I write this Monsieur stink sits next to me looking adorable and loudly cranking out his own little gas factory. I worry he may wake the neighbours.

So as we approach the 8th day of the week there are thanks to be given to super ‘Betty’ for calling a spade a spade. Due to her good works a sign now sits at the front of the salon stating. “The Dog did it”, and we can all get back to the business of laughter, relaxation, community and beautification…. And hey, it’s always great to have someone to blame right?

for full spread photo click http://simonesalon.com/closer_look_senior.htm

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Do you have a story about doing hair or having your hair done?
If so, i want to hear from you for my Book Project. Please leave your comment and we’ll ‘Tawk”.    Simone

Goo and Go Thursday, Apr 15 2010 

In my first post, i shared the story of the women who’s lives are so full  that they have their hair cut and coloured and leave the salon with colour on.

,

since then  there has been a run (pun intended) on this service. Every day i get calls from busy women begging to, well ……..”goo and go”. Credit actually goes to my long time client Kelsey who came up with this time efficient idea. This motivated and inventive southerner wanted it all and time was short. I admit i thought she was a bit wacky at the time, but soon i saw the brilliance in her ways.

Why not drive home, and by the time you arrive, your colour is finished.

Heck, pick up the kids along  the way!
This says ‘verve, hutzpah, confidence, moxie’, and in no uncertain terms ‘I am woman, get the heck of my way’.
So, the phone is ringing, the cars are parking, and chemically addicted women are running willy nilly to their vehicles with full heads of colour  or foils.

some even bring their pals (there is safety in numbers).
The  fashionistas wear sunglasses,earrings and lip stick to match of course.




They pick up the kids, drop the mail in the box, deliver the overdue library books, make some calls, prepare the evening meal, set the table, water the plants, hop in the shower, dress and damn!, but don’t they look fabulous?
how does that superwoman do it all?

(only her hairdresser knows for sure 🙂

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Do you have a story about doing hair or having your hair done?

If so, i want to hear from you for my Book Project.
Please leave your comment and we’ll ‘Tawk”.
Simone.

Public Hair Friday, Apr 9 2010 

In my not-so-humble opinion, obsession with hair has become a national past time.

We tease, rat, wax, pluck, laser, electrolocize, tweeze, comb, brush, roll, bend, heat, cool, gel, mousse, coif, puff, poof, spray, shape, colour, cut, bleach, feather, straighten, flatten, shine, braid or shave it. I mean, come on just the pubic hair management business alone has become a thriving industry.

I admit, when I was in beauty school learning to set and comb out the perfect Italian top I thought HARD about what the future of hair held for me. I would look into the hairy crystal ball that predicted trends and I saw the words PUBLIC HAIR as clear as could be. Well,that was uneventful, since I was already doing the public’s hair. Crazy Colour was in vogue then, we were transitioning from frosting in caps  to foil highlights, and from garish greens and purples to normal only-her-hairdresser- knows- for -sure type of colour.

Anyhow, always one to rush toward the future (only to find that someone moved it a few weeks forward) I managed to not really pay attention to  the “L” in public, and the lasting impression I was left with was ‘PUBIC hair’.
I took it as a sign from the universe that one day pubic hair would be the new ‘black’.

Was I right or was I right?

Anyhow, In the salon’s dungeon was a sort of medieval ‘hair removal’ room, where mistress Betty worked. Well educated men and women would voluntarily climb on the table, and bravely and eagerly expose their hirsute body parts. Okay, normal enough, we’re licensed, professional, service providers, we’re caring people. Someone has to keep a straight face, roll up their sleeves, grab the bull by the horns, stand erect and scream out “HAIR, GET THEE BEHIND ME!”.

To be honest, I found it a pretty strange thing to do for hours on end, but then again, what isn’t?

The things people are  doing, or sometimes more frightening, not doing to their public and pubic hair still floors me.

in the 1400’s-1600’s Merkins and Bowsers were all the rage. A type of pubic hair wig that would somehow be attached to what god already had growing there and lo and behold you could have a long flowing full-on nest of hair dangling and swaying under your frock. If you think about it tight pants or mini skirts were probably not in fashion at that time . I suppose that if you got caught in the rain and your hair looked
a-fright, you could just reach into your “pocket”, whip out your bowser, or merkin and put it on your head and things would be groovy again. Or if a dignified gentleman was in process of growing a beard, he could attach his bowser to his face and in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, he’d be all gussied up for a game of croquet.

it all seems just a wee bit over the top, don’t you think?

As my friend Howard said, “no matter what the issue, inevitably, it all boils down to hair”. He is a wise man. I dare you , gather a few of your friends, pick any subject and if you really break it down, hair will be a major factor somewhere.

A case in point: People may be upside down on their homes or without a housekeeper, cell phone or Netflix account, but the quest for bigger, better or less hair marches on.
__________________________

Do you have a story about doing hair or having your hair done?
If so, i want to hear from you for my Book Project. Please leave your comment and we’ll ‘Tawk”.

– Simone.

Curl up and dye Friday, Apr 2 2010 

Do you ever go places and someone’s hair just stops you in your tracks?

Like maybe you don’t even know if it’s real?

Well, it probably is, people can do some very creative things, some of the works of art that get my attention are what I call monuments. These are worn by the mavericks, the true trend setters, I guess.

There was a woman I saw in the market with a thing on her head that puzzled me to the extent I found myself reaching out to touch it to see if it was alive.
It was larger than a foot ball helmet and sort of ratted in a way that lead me to think that it might be scraps of other people’s (animals?) hair just tossed into a heap and sprayed into a hornets nest, regardless of what it was made of, I wondered just how she could hold the entire mass upright, it was truly humongous. Remarkable, righteous, rad, really gnarley etc. A + for effort.

I saw a smartly dressed older gentleman yesterday with a rakish DO. Long hair on top of his head standing almost upright in sort of a qewpie doll swirl.
Honestly, He looked crazy.
My friend actually pointed him out. We began to make up a story about how he must have been in a hurry and arrived at the event in his sports car and the wind had rustled him up (like, A LOT) it was a good fantasy, so good, we looked at him differently after that.
Was that look intentional? Or did a tree branch grab his hairs on the way into the building?

Its amazing how something so simple can make someone look absolutely nutty. Sort of like lipstick on the teeth, or toilet paper hanging out of your pants. You carry on as if everything is Aokay, unaware that something is seriously awry.

Awhile back, I drove home on the freeway in rush hour, the cars were inching their way to their destinations. A couple men in the lane next to me were totally checking me out, this went on for a ¼ mile or so, I wasn’t sure if I was just lookin’ super caliente or if I had a smear of catsup on my face.
I decided to casually glance in the mirror I keep in my bag, and to my absolute horror I realized
I HAD PERM RODS IN MY HAIR. I had completely forgotten.

This is a pretty tough look to pull off even in the salon, yes I was used to it, seemed normal actually. But in a traffic jam was a whole nuther thing.
I assumed I would zip home in time to be fully air neutralized and I would hop in the shower and I emerge totally foxy, engulfed by a head of sexy bouncing curls.
Best laid plans and all that. So I did what any self respecting gal would do when caught on the freeway in perm rods.
I rolled down my window and said “hey sugar, I’m single, want my number?”
Note to self:
Never drive from one County to the next with perm rods in hair during rush hour

Do you have a story about doing hair or having your hair done?
If so, i want to hear from you for my Book Project.
Please leave your comment and we’ll ‘Tawk”.

Simone

Beauty 911 Thursday, Mar 11 2010 

I was in line at the beauty supply , minding my own business, keeping my hands to myself, when suddenly this ancient memory came rushing at me:

There was a client in my chair, we’ll call her ‘betty’.
After creating a masterpiece and leaving ‘betty’ to admire her beauty, she decided to help herself to the contents of the drawers in my station. This, my friends, is never a good idea. Didn’t your mama teach you not to look in other people’s stuff?

Okay, Innocent enough, all she wanted was a comb.
She was triumphant.
Black Comb in hand she prepares to part her hair.

Oh no, “NO, NO, NOOOOO, STOP, STOP, THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK it is” I run like a woman with her hair on fire to the rescue. But, alas, I am too late. It’s too late, it’s entirely far too late.

The hair from the top of her head lays in a heap on the floor and we’re trying to figure out which stylist remembers CPR.
What she thought was a harmless comb, was indeed a comb, but,
with a very sharp razor in it.

Uh-oh.

bad hair day

A crafty tool of the trade, an ingenious invention, called the ‘carving comb’.
(now they come in purple and green to save all the other betty’s). To wield this tool, you must be clear on your direction, committed to your vision, you must have experience, you definitely need confidence. Until that moment it was a good day, every chair was full, the salon was humming, there were smiles all around and magic was being worked.

Like my grandma used to say, “it’s all fun and games until someone puts an eye out”.
God grant me the ability to learn from other people’s mistakes, and keep my hands out of other people’s stuff (especially in places where sharp objects may be hiding)

Do you have an unusual story about doing hair or having your hair done?
If so, i want to hear from you for my Book Project. Please leave your comment and we’ll ‘Tawk”.

Welcome to my blog Thursday, Feb 4 2010 

Dear fellow Hair Professional:

I’ve had an idea that’s been marinating for more than 15 years,

it’s time to bring it to fruition, and I would like your help.

I am putting together a book, compiled of letters, cards, pictures and/or stories from those who “stand behind the chair’.

Whether you call yourself a hairstylist , hairdresser, hair designer, beauty professional, beauty operator, beautician, hair cutter, tinter-permer, chemical specialist, or a crimper, and whether you are currently behind the chair or were 65 years ago;

we’ve all had experiences that have elated, exasperated, inspired or baffled us.

I have worked in many salons over the past 30 years, and often “in competition” with Salons in the same area (which made little sense, since we are all on the same side of the chair) I know emotions run high in our industry. I’ve personally witnessed countless salon dramas, been moved to tears by the secrets I’ve heard, received not only love letters, but hate mail as well. I’ve alternately thought about burning my clothes after a ‘bad hair day’ and have felt a deep sense of gratitude for the many gifts this career has given me.

WE HAVE STORIES TO TELL!

primarily to each other, but also to the public.

My fantasy is to hear not only North American’s, but other countries as well.

I would love nothing more than to shed some light on the fact, that at the end of the day we all have more in common than we realize.

Warm Regards,

Wendy Simone