Me & Him on the porch with coffee. I had a question from a new client yesterday and that was “What made you choose cosmetology for your occupation”. My first answer was “My father” and that was because I hadn’t thought I’d do anything after graduation, except marry my high school sweetheart and have children. Dad told me I must go to some sort of school, “Because a woman should always be able to take care of herself.” When he asked me what I wanted to do, I immediately answered “I want to be a hairdresser”. And so I am.
However, it goes deeper than that quick answer. I started thinking after that question from my client and here’s what I came up with.
Mom always, always did her own hair, until I got my license. I remember setting her hair on pin curls as a 4 yr. old. After her hair dried, she’d brush it out and no matter how bad it looked, she thanked me and said it was most beautiful. Then she’d go to work with that “do”. I asked her in later years why she didn’t change it and she said when she looked into the mirror at Dad’s (who would be our father) store, she’d think of me. First lesson in not redoing something not to YOUR liking. After she and Dad married, she still did her own hair. I’d sit on a closed toilet seat and watch her with an old coffee cup and toothbrush coloring her own hair. Lady Clairol’s Flame Red Red and Golden Apricot. She must have been a pioneer in hair color, as we are now using bowls and brushes, just as she did. She taught me how to tease hair, explaining as she went. “Hold the section like this and then start from the bottom, honey. Never let it look tangled, always smooth gently”.
When I became licensed, she immediately started coming to me every Saturday morning at 9:00. I’d roller set, brush and tease her hair, spraying it within an inch of it’s life. We had some good chats, some heated arguments and some wonderful giggles in that chair.
After we moved to Florida, she continued going to a friend of mine for a number of years and when she visited, she’d have that Saturday 9am appointment with me in the salon I worked in.
Years later, when she became ill, weaker and unable to travel. I’d go up to visit, color her hair and cut it. It was me she trusted to cut it short..wash and wear, giving her lessons on how to do it herself. Next visit, she said she loved it, but maybe she should let her color grow out, which she did.
Each time I went, I’d give her a haircut, until she found someone to come to her. I kinda missed that time with her, but it was more free time to spend with her..giggling.
When she went into assisted care, no longer able to spend even short periods of time alone, Meg and I took her to the little shop on premises. I brought my own tools and found that we’d come full circle. Instead of that young redhead sitting in my chair, I found myself gazing into the beautiful, shimmery eyes of a wonderful, giving soul. Instead of cutting and teasing red hair, I was styling and brushing white. She once asked me to turn her away from the mirror because “I’m old and ugly”. I turned her to me, looked directly at her and said “Mom, you have more soul and beauty than anyone I’ve ever met. Your eyes are so amazing and beautiful and your smile just warms my heart. I can’t change how you feel about yourself, but I can tell you that not one person who looks at you, thinks you’re not an amazing woman.”
With that, I turned her back to the mirror and we chatted just like old times..my heart full of Mom.
Happy Sunday!
On My Porch 