Curly-headed Bliss!

I am thirty-five years old.  I have had roughly around eight professional haircuts in my LIFE!  Until yesterday, I had hated every single one of them.  No matter how much I would try to inform the stylist or how much they tried to convince me they knew how to handle my curly locks, they inevitably would give me a cut any straight-headed girl would adore.  My hair would turn into a wedge, triangle, or just overall WRONG shape - often helmet-like and frizzy.  They would brush, blow dry, overwork, and completely destroy my ringlets.  So, I would vow to never return to a salon again and would just chop my crop on my own.  It wasn't great, but it was better than what I'd get and I didn't have to pay for it.

After at least eight years away from the salon, I took the plunge again yesterday...only this time I went to Devachan!  I heard there were these salons that catered to curly-heads.  After some research, I decided Devachan was the place for me, but with a $100 price tag on a hair cut, it didn't seem likely I'd get to experience the curly-head paradise for myself.  I campaigned for cash when it came time for birthday and Christmas gifts so that I could indulge.  After some sideways glances from my straight-haired family...you want a HAIRCUT for Christmas????....I guess I convinced them!  So, after making my appointment weeks in advance, I stuffed my wallet with my gifted cash and headed for Manhattan like a child anticipating the arrival of Santa Claus! 

Nervous and excited, I arrived over thirty minutes early to my destination.  It was cold and blustery outside, so I went in.  A contemporary and somewhat minimalist decor, with warm green tones and an incredibly clean, non-chemical smell greeted me.  The woman at the front counter welcomed me kindly and took me to the waiting room where I settled in on a green couch and looked around, feeling like a fish out of water.  I was the only one in the waiting room and the place was very quiet.  Within minutes, a few other curly-heads of different varieties began to enter.  

A young woman came and asked me follow.  She took my coat and handed me a silky and shiny champagne colored robe and sent me to a little dressing room to put it on.  I came out and again took my seat in the waiting area, now amongst several others in champagne silky robes.  I tried to read, but couldn't concentrate.  As I sat in wonderment, watching stylists come and go, hugging and kissing their clients, I felt somewhat in awe of this strange and mystical place!

Soon enough, it was my turn and I followed a wavy-haired young woman back into the styling area.  It was like entering some alternate universe full of various forms of curls...from tight ringlets, to loose waves, to kinky frizz...there was hardly a straight hair in sight!  I took my seat in my stylist, Julie's, chair.  We chatted about my hair and then she went to work.

They cut the hair dry, so they can see it's natural curl and avoid the common problem of too-short cuts upon shrinkage.  It was fascinating to watch!  A real artist, she cut...curl by curl...in a seemingly random fashion.  No perfectly evened-out layers!  A snip here and a snip there, she had me stand up at one point so she could see how the curls were falling better.  She talked to me about curl-care and reminded me to never use a brush!  I laughed and told her about The Girl's fall-out with her five year old friend over an attempt to brush her curls.  Funny how something seemingly meaningless, like curly hair, can create an immediate feeling of camaraderie and understanding!

AFTER the cut, I was sent with Danielle to get washed.  While she scrubbed my scalp with "No Poo", she educated me on the best ways to wash and condition curls.  I held a mirror and watched her finger comb my hair and work on each curl with conditioner.  A pleasant young lady with many tips and tricks to offer, I found it so refreshing to feel completely at ease while someone else worked with my hair!  Normally, I would cringe through the entire process while my hair was put through torture!  

After gently squeezing the excess water into a microfiber towel, she carefully clipped a few curls at my crown to give it a little lift.  I sat under the gentle dryer and read my book; finally able to relax.  After a while, my stylist, Julie, returned, took out the clips, did a few snips on some curls she decided needed a little more trimming, and separated the curls.  I stood with her, staring into the mirror, with the most ridiculous grin on my face!  My hair was super shiny, with NO frizz, each ringlet super-defined, framing my face perfectly without dragging me down!  I must have looked so silly standing there, beaming.  

I gushed over Julie and Danielle and thanked them profusely.  I returned my silky robe and traded it for my coat.  I went to the kind woman at the front counter to pay, all the while still grinning like a giddy school girl.  She was generous with compliments and told me she could see how happy I was with the cut.  When the price tag came in at $146, BEFORE tips, I had a small jolt back to reality!  Did I really just spend that much money on a HAIRCUT?!?!?!?!?!  I justify it with the fact that over the course of my lifetime, I've spent next to nothing on haircare.  That makes sense.  Right?

The next day, with my own products.

Two hours after my haircut began, I stepped outside into the streets of SoHo and was caught immediately in a swirl of bitter cold wind!  I walked to the subway in the light snow, hair swirling, but with a new little bounce in my step.  It was the first time ever in my life I felt good about my haircut and I wasn't going to let a little wind take that feeling away