The Magic of Her Snip

            For about 15 years now, there’s been a certain person in my life who knows me very well and who always lifts my spirits, no matter how low they might have fallen. We’ve been through a lot together, and yet the other day, just when I should have been seeing this special person, I saw someone else instead.

            I’m talking about my hairdresser.

            It wasn’t my choice to seek solace and style elsewhere. A loyal client, I followed Ellie when she closed her own beauty parlor and went to work at another salon. Although I may not be the chattiest person in her chair (after all, I always bring a book), we’ve still managed to get to know one another well over the years. But when I called to make an appointment the other day, I was told Ellie had left. And try as I might, I couldn’t find out where.

            I’m not the kind of woman who’s always searching for hair satisfaction and changes hairdressers with the latest whim or Groupon. In fact, I had just barely recovered from cutting off a relationship with Ellie’s predecessor, Pat. I had gone to Pat’s welcoming chair soon after surgery, when the idea of washing and drying my own hair had felt much too daunting.  Afterwards she pampered my thinning hair and battered vanity during a bout of chemotherapy.  Such kind and personal treatment so clearly merited my loyalty, and I was a happy, faithful client until … well, until I wasn’t.  Somewhere along the way, Pat lost the magic of her snip. Hair cut after hair cut left me feeling (and looking) dowdy. And yet, I stuck with her. How could I do otherwise?

            Then one day, I was heading to Pat’s salon, thinking about how disappointed I had been with my last haircut. Suddenly, a drunk driver crashed into me. I wasn’t hurt, just shook up.  I realized then that it was my own hair on the chopping block; I could take my business elsewhere.

            What is it with us and the people who touch our hair? We know these relationships are far from exclusive and have, at their roots, cash, credit or debit cards. Is it the intimate touch that makes us feel so connected? After all, who but a lover or parent caresses our hair? Or is it that we (literally) let our hair down with our hairdressers and let them see us as we really are?

            Obviously it’s nothing new … After all, Shirley Polykoff rose to advertising fame with the 1958 slogan … “Does she … or doesn’t she?  Only her hairdresser knows for sure.”

            She knows that and a whole lot more.  Just ask her -- if you can find her.