Dispatches from the City of Angels
I'm a writer and humorist living in and writing about Los Angeles. You can catch my novel LOSING CLEMENTINE out March 6 from William Morrow. In the meantime, feel free to poke around. Over at my website you can find even more blog entries than I could fit here, as well as a few other ramblings. Enjoy and come back often.
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Favorite Quotes:
"Taint what a horse looks like, it’s what a horse be." - A Hat Full of Sky by Terry Pratchett
"Trying to take it easy after you've finished a manuscript is like trying to take it easy when you have a grease fire on a kitchen stove." - Jan Burke
"Put on your big girl panties, and deal with it." - Mom
"How you do anything is how you do everything."
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Medusa Feels My Pain
I have mentioned this before, but for our story, it bears repeating. I have curly hair. Naturally curly hair. In the world of L.A., stick-straight, everyone-wants-to-look-like-Barbie salons, this is like having snakes sprouting from your head. No one knows what to do with it, and frankly, they'd rather you just went away.
My stylist, who I love as a person, can't do anything but blow dry it straight after she's done highlight and cutting. This last time, she handed me off to her assistant with instructions to dry it with the curl. Five minutes in, the assistant looked like she wanted to cry. I took the dryer away from her, finished my own hair and left. She was embarrassed. I was resigned.
Such is the life of the curly-haired woman.
And then I found it. A salon in Santa Monica that specializes in curly hair. They only do curls. The stylists all have curls. They cut it differently, highlight it differently, do everything differently because of the texture. And they can dry it just fine, thankyouverymuch.
No more wrestling styling implements from emotionally distraught service professionals!
I wanted to weep for joy. It was a religious experience I had right there in front of my computer.
Thank you, Jesus! Can I get a witness? I said, can I get a witness? Hallelujah, Mary and Joseph.
Then I looked at the prices.
Highlights: $300
Cheapest haircut: $135 (and it can go way higher)
Lights swam in front of my eyes, and everything went black. When I woke up, I had fallen out of my chair, had a knot on my head and had thrown up just a little in my own mouth.
I know why they can charge that much. I do. I have been there. I know what goes on in other salons. The misery. The pain. The frustration. But - let's be honest - have you lost your damn mind? $435 for one visit? Please.
But the thing is now I know. I know there is another way, a better way, and that I will never get there. It's like reading a really good book. I mean a really good book, a book so good you know that if you live to be 112, you will never be able to approach that sort of writing greatness. You might as well just go work at 7-11 and save everyone the trouble.
It's like that but with spray gel and conditioner. I might as well shave my head.
My stylist, who I love as a person, can't do anything but blow dry it straight after she's done highlight and cutting. This last time, she handed me off to her assistant with instructions to dry it with the curl. Five minutes in, the assistant looked like she wanted to cry. I took the dryer away from her, finished my own hair and left. She was embarrassed. I was resigned.
Such is the life of the curly-haired woman.
And then I found it. A salon in Santa Monica that specializes in curly hair. They only do curls. The stylists all have curls. They cut it differently, highlight it differently, do everything differently because of the texture. And they can dry it just fine, thankyouverymuch.
No more wrestling styling implements from emotionally distraught service professionals!
I wanted to weep for joy. It was a religious experience I had right there in front of my computer.
Thank you, Jesus! Can I get a witness? I said, can I get a witness? Hallelujah, Mary and Joseph.
Then I looked at the prices.
Highlights: $300
Cheapest haircut: $135 (and it can go way higher)
Lights swam in front of my eyes, and everything went black. When I woke up, I had fallen out of my chair, had a knot on my head and had thrown up just a little in my own mouth.
I know why they can charge that much. I do. I have been there. I know what goes on in other salons. The misery. The pain. The frustration. But - let's be honest - have you lost your damn mind? $435 for one visit? Please.
But the thing is now I know. I know there is another way, a better way, and that I will never get there. It's like reading a really good book. I mean a really good book, a book so good you know that if you live to be 112, you will never be able to approach that sort of writing greatness. You might as well just go work at 7-11 and save everyone the trouble.
It's like that but with spray gel and conditioner. I might as well shave my head.
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