Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Maggie and the Machine.
I went in to get my hair done today with only a vague idea of what I really wanted. On one hand, I thought to myself, "Mad Men. Let's do Joan!" although I have only seen the show once. (I have seen a lot of the curvaceous Christina Hendricks in magazines and online, so perhaps that is what fueled the desire to go red. That, or Harry Potter and Ron Weasley...) The other option was Debbie Harry's signature platinum tresses and onyx ends, but I thought that would scream "desperate soccer mom" in the carpool line. Forget that my kids don't play sports ("yet", she added hopefully...) I don't want it to seem as if I am trying too hard. There is hardly anything more tragic, is there?
I love going to this particular stylist. Is that even the right word, now? Hair artist? He is not only a creative genius, but is also kind, patient, erudite, and funny. He is also exceedingly diplomatic. Some of his clients (not me, I don't think...) are insufferable, the type that complain that The Four Seasons in Fancyville was just not quite to their standards ("Can you believe that the bellboy scratched my new Louis with his belt buckle? Why was he so close to it?!" "Oh, Newport Beach is so hideous now. It's full of dull, poor people." And he will smile, and chat, and agree, and not once roll his eyes or cough knowingly. A true professional. (I, however, am not so diplomatic. But it's good practice at controlling my emotions.)
Well, you see what I have chosen. The color looks a bit soft through the gauzy, loving gaze of the webcam, as though I had wandered into a Monet painting and returned covered in the dew of water lilies. In reality it is a bit more Mad Men-meets-Florence (without her Machine)-meets-Agent Scully-meets-Ginger from Gilligan's Island. I have gotten stares and shocked looks (the kind where eyes open wide, close for a moment, then open again.) When I went to pick up my kids from camp, my daughter was so overcome that she tripped and fell into a bin of cans waiting to be hauled off for recycling. "WHAT DID YOU DO??" she squealed.
All in all, I think it's a success.
Florence and the Machine -Heavy in Your Arms