Wednesday, January 23, 2008

The Hair, It's Magic! ...

One of the reasons I love J-D is because of his allegiance to good hair. A couple weeks ago, he told me that there was an easy at-home touch-up solution to tame my greys (and whoa ho, I have a lot of 'em these days) between salon visits.

But then I learned that I have to sit for a headshot at my upcoming company meeting and I figured that I best let J-D take care of my color, lest my oh-so-corporate headshot end up looking like a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon. (Don't you miss Calvin and Hobbes?)

You may or may not know that it has been stupidly cold in Chicagoland of late. That, however, did not stop me from parking west of River North today and walking to the salon, which is near Borders on Michigan Avenue. For those of you who might be a bit rusty on your Chicago geography, the distance between my car and the salon = about a mile.

Which isn't a big deal, a mile. I walked a couple miles today on the treadmill at the gym. Set to an incline, no less. But the temperature inside the gym was not 17 degrees nor was there a wind, making it feel even colder.

But I walked from my car to the salon, and then past the salon to Borders, then back to the salon, where I spent 2 1/2 hours and far too many dollars. And then, as I always do, I walked out of the salon feeling very sassy. There is nothing quite like the feeling of great hair.

Of course, it was snowy, and I am not the type to wear a hat, so me and my hair were walking in the snow, and my wavy tendrils were becoming more sodden with every step, but did I care? No, I did not.

I stepped into Whole Foods where, miracle of miracles, I was able to procure not one, not two, but three tubes of my lip balm/crack! And a protein bar because I was overdue for a meal. Brandon doesn't advocate protein bars, and this one had as many grams of carbs as protein, but I figured it was better than skipping a meal all together.

Outside, heading west again, I was stopped at Huron and Clark, waiting for the light to change. In my peripheral vision, I saw someone step alongside me. I turned to glance and thought for a moment that it was Dave, but it wasn't. It was some other tall guy with fabulous hair. As we were nearing the gallery district, I figured he was an arty type. He looked arty, with his longer hair and cool jacket.

He was holding a cup of Starbucks. We didn't make eye contact. The light changed. I walked as quickly as I could across the snow-covered sidewalk. (Shouldn't there be some kind of law that requires people to clear their sidewalks?) I arrived at LaSalle just in time to wait for the light.

The Man with the Hair appeared again at my side. This time, he spoke.

Something innocuous, about the weather, I think. We chatted for two blocks. Good banter. Turns out, my arty assessment was right on target: He owns a gallery.

"You have fabulous hair," I said.

He laughed and commented on my affinity for long hair, pointing at mine. I told him about my hair architect.

Then I asked him if he could recommend a professional frame shop, as I have a piece of art to get framed and I've lost confidence in the gallery I was going to hire to do it. I also thought that would be a good opportunity for him to give me his card. But he didn't. He recommended the frame place across the street from his gallery, just north of the building I used to work in. At Huron and Franklin, he crossed in front of me to head north. The "L" rumbled overhead. I pointed and said, "I'm this way."

He smiled at me and walked toward his gallery. I crossed the street with a big grin on my face.

Most of the time, I'm oblivious to men. My friends tell me that they look at me. I tell my friends that's because I'm so tall. But on this snowy day, I'm quite convinced that my hair had something to do with the attention. And maybe me and my hair will find ourselves near his gallery someday soon.

P.S. I took a couple shots of my magic hair with my camera phone at the salon. They have yet to show up in my e-mail. If they arrive, I'll post one so you can see the magic for yourself.

5 Comments:

Blogger Mercurie said...

You want to hear something odd, but I don't have many grey hairs in my head, but I have a ton of them in my beard. I have yet to figure out how that turned out.

Speaking as a guy, I prefer wearing my hair long, even if my number two best friend complains that I look like a girl (she prefers short hair on men--*bleh*).

7:14 PM  
Blogger Chris said...

My jealousy, it is now palpable. :)

These random meetings that brighten our days... they are wonderful, aren't they?

10:59 PM  
Blogger Jeff Hunter said...

The new calvin & hobbes: http://www.comics.com/wash/redandrover/index.html

10:45 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Wishin’ and hopin’ and thinkin’ and prayin’
Plannin’ and dreamin’ each night of his charms
That won’t get you into his arms
So if you’re lookin’ to find love you can share
All you gotta do is hold him and kiss him and love him
And show him that you care

Show him that you care just for him
Do the things he likes to do
Wear your hair just for him, cause
You won’t get him
Thinkin’ and a-prayin’, wishin’ and a-hopin’....

10:23 AM  
Blogger Mercurie said...

LOL. I love that song. Although I think I prefer "Wishing" by A Flock of Seagulls....

"If I had a photograph of you,
It’s something to remind me.
I wouldn’t spend my life just wishing."

3:44 PM  

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