BY: LUIS PAYNE
I remember meeting an
acquaintance of my sister one evening over drinks. As the evening progressed we
all spoke about numerous topics and naturally we got to the subject of hair. She
was talking about how she was thinking about having an ombre done.
Unfortunately, she couldn't afford me. Such is college life.
Several weeks later, I get a Facebook message from her
saying that she just had her hair messed up. Apparently she went to a well
renowned Beauty College in Santa Monica, and ended up with a result far from
what she wanted.
I soon received pictures of her ill inspired hair and
couldn’t really tell what was going on as the picture had strange lighting. I
suggested she call the salon and make an appointment and sure enough I spotted her
on the schedule two weeks later.
She mentioned in her message that her Ombre went totally
wrong and was not the color she wanted. She kept saying that her ends were too
brassy.
“No big deal” I thought. “I’ll just re-bleach the ends, tone
it, and call it a day”
This poor girl comes in with a big, floppy hat straight out
of Blossom. It was cute, but not cute enough for everyday for nearly Three
weeks. I brought her back to my chair, eyeballing her brassy wavy ends peeking out as she got herself situated.
“Oh it’s not bad” I thought.
I saw her shyly remove her hat in my peripheral visions as I fiddle
with my color tray. I look back and…
“OH My God!” I exclaim. “I mean I... You didn’t tell me”
“I Know” she says, eyes welling with tears. “They totally
trashed my hair.”
“I didn’t really know how to describe it, it mostly looks
brassy to me”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so dramatic when you took
your hat off, I was just caught off guard, who did this to you? A beauty
school?”
“Yeah, one of the senior students” she sniffled. “I was there
for almost eight hours, It’s not gonna take that long this time is it?”
“Ok, no - It’s not going to take that long, so just take a
deep breath, Here’s some tissue. It’s totally ok- it’s not even that bad. I can
fix this no problem” I ran my fingers through her hair studying the strands. I
parted through her hair discovering all sorts of surprises.
“Really? I don’t care how much it costs, I have graduation
next week - I’m valedictorian and have to give a speech.” She gushed.
“Besides, I sent photos to my mom and she replied with her
credit card number. She demanded I fix it immediately”
“My mom is way more high maintenance than me. She gets her
hair colored like every three weeks”
“Ok, Well let me go mix some stuff up and I’ll be right back,”
I said as I draped her.
“Ok, I trust you, just do whatever you think looks best."
I headed to the back and confronted our color bar. I
frantically looked up, down, left, right; locating specific colors I hoped were
in stock.
“Damn, there’s only a little 9/8 left, I’ll have
to hide it,” I thought to myself.
“What happened to her hair?” I hear a stylist say from behind. “
“Did you do that?”
“Yeah, I flat ironed bleached through her hair, added lemon
juice and sent her home to rinse”
“AHAHA! you would” she proclaimed
“No dude, a beauty school happened to her” I replied. “Now
it’s my job to fix it”
“I had to lie to her face just now and tell her it wasn’t
that bad. She like sat down and starting crying.” I whispered.
“Hell, I’d cry too if my hair looked like that” she
snickered.
“Ok - aren’t you SO thankful we have the power and ability to
control the way we look? I don’t know how regular society does it,” I proclaimed.
“I don’t know, some of your looks are out of control,”
she snapped.
“Whatever” I hissed back.
“So, What are you gonna do?”
TO BE CONTINUED!!
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