Some Things Are Hard To Change

What is it about women and their hair stylists? I don’t know a woman who doesn’t struggle with changing hair stylists. The exception is when we move out of the area and HAVE to change. But even then we struggle with the change…how do find a new stylist, the right one? What if we don’t like them, what if they don’t like us. What if we don’t like the products they use…it goes on and on.

I recently was forced to make a change. It was then that I realized just how long I had been going to the same stylist for my hair color. It started in my 20’s when I moved to San Diego and just added a few highlights for that “summer” look.  After my daughter was born, I started seeing a few gray hairs. After a while, we (my hair colorist and I) added color, to cover those pesky gray hairs AND highlights. Once my daughter was in college, the gray had outnumbered the non-grey and I no longer needed highlights, just color (am I seeing a pattern here…Does child-rearing have something to do with gray hair)?

When I moved to San Diego in the 1980’s and my search for a hair stylist here began. It didn’t take long, it was the second salon I ventured into where I felt at home. They were from New York City and had studied in Paris. I was impressed. And they were really good. The place busy with clientele from all over San Diego.

You may be wondering how many years has it been between then and now? 34 years. 34  years of monthly conversations about life’s ups and downs. About marriage, divorce, pregnancy, childbirth, work, fun, family, travel, health…you name it, we talk about it with our hair stylist. We celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays with them. We laugh and cry with them.

Why did I stay for 34 years? As I told an office friend recently when asked why I have stayed with the same real estate company for 23 of my 25 years in the business, there just wasn’t a compelling reason to leave. I was happy, we danced to the same tune. Why change for the sake of change? I believe in loyalty.

My friend of thirty-four years, my stylist, isn’t well now. Her health prevents her from working. I never thought this would be the way our story played out. I guess I thought we would be white haired old ladies together.

So, what is a girl to do? Fortunately, I have a great hair stylist who cuts and styles my hair. I had absolute faith in her that she could step right in and fill a big pair of shoes. And, she did, brilliantly. Thanks, Mandi. Who knows, maybe there are another 34 years on the horizon.

 

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