Hillary Clinton’s hair is looking really good these days, isn’t it? In that orange nubby suit and a good makeup job, she looked doggone nice at the last Democratic debate and it was largely due to a good haircut.
My mom used to say If Your Hair Looks Good You Look Good and I think that’s true. She also said Always Curl Your Bangs and Get Your Hair Off Your Face. A wise woman, she.
I think I want a haircut like Hillary’s. It can be my new dream haircut, replacing the Jessica Savitch cut that I’ve been working toward since the 1980s DC power helmet days. Before that was Farrah Fawcett and Ann Stiftinger, a woman I used to babysit for when I was in middle school. So you can see, I don’t switch haircut alliances easily.
Finding someone to implement a good haircut, though, is not easy. It’s one of the hardest tasks of moving (second only to getting in-state license plates and finding a doctor with decent magazines in the waiting room).
Ken, the guy who used to cut my hair in Canton, Ohio, from 1993 to ‘94, told me that the way to find a new haircut person when you first move into a new area is to go sit in the food court of the mall and watch people walk by. When you see someone with a good haircut, go ask them where they get their hair done.
That worked for me, but then I took it too far. I started asking people where they bought their shoes, who fathered their darling babies, and who gave them such good DNA that they had straight teeth and no glasses.
Then when you finally find someone, it often doesn’t work out. Sometimes they don’t do a very good job, sometimes they go on and on with the sales pitch for the perm (I mean, honestly, who gets perms now?), sometimes they drop the comb and fail to put it in the blue water before using it again, and sometimes they drink Diet Pepsi at 9 o’clock in the morning and are just too skinny.
I’m currently between hair people, since Becky, who I’ve had for almost two years, moved to a new shop that I can’t find. She told me it was “over by the Kentucky Fried Chicken off Nicholasville Road” and that could be anywhere within a 15-square-mile commercial-zoned area, a square that has roughly seven Kentucky Fried Chickens. Do you think Becky was trying to ditch me?
She did mention the name of the new salon, but I forgot it the instant it entered my ear canal. Hair salon names are like that. When quizzing attractive women for a new place, I asked my neighbor, Marla, where she got her new haircut and she said, “Um, well, it’s right across from that elementary school over by where Clay’s Mill cuts in on the back way to the mall and it has a name something like Hair and Now or some play on words like that.” Again, that could be any salon and it could be anywhere.
But I found it! Marla was wrong. It’s called Top Notch Salon and Kim will be cutting my hair on Tuesday. Her business card says, “Where experience meets the cutting edge of hair design.” I’m hopeful.
I’m going to tell her I want the Hillary.