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May 21, 2020
It’s been two months (maybe longer?) since quarantine began and the stores and salons suddenly closed. All this time, the grey's continued to surge…perhaps even a few new ones crossed over to the silver side. Truly a first world problem, but this sister is a 6 week root touch up gal. And I was closing in on two missed appointments when I finally caved and took advantage of the custom color kits my salon was offering as an interim fix.
Evangelin met me at the door and I could tell she was smiling under her mask by the twinkle in her eyes. I could also see the supreme restraint she was exhibiting resisting the urge hug. She, too, misses her people. We caught up for a few moments from a safe 6’ distance and she placed my tissue lined gift bag nearby for me to pick up. Inside it, she explained, was all the ingredients to take care of those pesky greys. I smiled a grateful smile and carried it carefully home to apply.
My color kit had all the important components: a perimeter lotion to protect my sloppy hands from coloring my forehead, two part color ingredients, even a mixing bowl, clips, rubber bands for sectioning into fancy ponytails and a very official looking wide paint brush.
Dabs here, strokes there, it started out clean and precise, but I soon ended up looking like a Jackson Pollock painting.. drips and daps on my forehead, deposits in my ear. Clearly I’m one messy artist. I missed the precise hands of the trained stylist. And while I’m at it, it’s safe to say I missed the entire experience… Evangelin’s staff brings me a fancy creamer filled coffee with my name on it, asks how my shop is going, carries on delightful conversation and then, mid-visit, I receive the most decadent head massage to wash away all the product, greys, and the stress I carried. I miss all of it.
At the end of the painting, I sat my allotted amount of soaking time, letting the product do it’s magic. And I began to wonder about rinsing…should I dangle my head over the edge of the tub likely hitting my face with the spigot? Should I climb into the tub on all fours then drip-walk to the shower for a proper rinse? Should I start in the shower? But the thought of product rinsing past all my most sensitive parts made me hesitate. So I opted for a bent over position in the shower…not the most graceful process. My timer alerted me that the soak was complete and I climbed hunchback into the shower. Rinsing until the brown dissolved into clear, then standing for a good shampoo and condition.
This was such a sweet offering from my salon…I understood her hesitation in handing it over as this was a process to be completed by professionals in a professional setting. In the end, most of the greys were covered (I missed a few spots), my forehead carried a temporary brown tattoo, and my counters held reminders of my sloppy painting.
All of this made me appreciate our locked down stylists all the more.. not only their steady trained hands, but their heart to make me lovely, the concerned conversation, the camaraderie, the decadence. We are blessed to have so many super skilled stylists in our area and once they have reopened, I pray you will frequent them and leave the dirty work to the masters.
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