My Hair As Art

Tomorrow I get my hair cut. Second to last time...(boo hoo)

So it's no secret to anyone who knows me well (and those made to suffer my commentary and blogging ;) that I recently found out that my hairstylist of the last 17 + years, is moving far away.

I've been going to him since I was in my very early 20's and my comfort level with him and his ability is extremely high. For many of the last few years, I only need to sit in that chair (which reminds me that tomorrow I am going to bring my camera, because his studio has all these cool mirrors which reflect off of one another---plus I know he'd appreciate some photos) and he just combs my hair a little, says So what are we doing? and I say I don't know, what do you think? He looks quizzical for a moment and says Ok, I know what I'm doing and turns the chair for me to get out and head for the shampoo.

This has been our routine for a long time. I trust him, because he knows my personality now, my age (we're actually about the same age), my lifestyle (lazy when it comes to doing hair---ok---we do differ here---he insists on straight cuts and I am too lazy to blow them dry). He knows I sing and actually, asked me to sing for a very very big event he was promoting (more on this later). He's a comedian, and every cut is a comedy routine. Obnoxious, sexist, rude, hilarious jokes. Only Todd could get away with this with me (he does, after all, have my hair in his hands).

Why is all of this important? Because, my hair is a statement. I've had super short spiked cuts all the way to my current chin length blunt cut. My hair is an expression of spirit. Fun, sweet, sexy, defiant, sleek--all are words that could describe my different hairstyles. Those words might also describe me at any given moment too.

Todd told me once, that he liked to cut my hair, because I always let him do what he wants. He had artistic freedom. I would guess that this was why he took it up in the first place, for the artistic reasons.

My hair as expression of the self, as expression of his art. I am sad that he is leaving. I imagine life without my every-six-weeks haircut and comedy routine will suck for awhile. Not to mention that no one in the city of Buffalo could possibly HIGHLIGHT my hair in the exact shimmering gold I have grown accustomed to (and NO, at almost age 39, I do NOT have one single strand of gray--thank you very much) (good genes--thanks mom :)

PS- The other day I was in my friend Donna's bead store (yes, of course, more on this later) and her friend who just happens to be a hairstylist and does a FAB job on her hair, walked in and said "Oh, I like your hair!" Hey, I forgot all about YOU! I believe my new hairdresser has been found. Then why do I still feel so melacholic...?

***sigh***

Told Todd I'd even fly down. He said he's just giving it up altogether.

***heavy sigh***