My regular hairdresser runs his business out of a tiny hole in the wall space. I was referred to him by a friend and though on my first visit I was shocked by the location, I decided to give it a go, anyway.
When I walked in, I was met by loud voices yelling over hair dryers and snipping scissors. Everyone was speaking Spanish and the television ran constantly on Latin stations. My morning appointments had me watching daytime talk shows. My evening appointments were filled with high drama telenovelas. I was both out of place and at home.
I loved my haircuts and kept going back. I thought I had finally found a hairdresser that knew me. He made my hair feathery and high and I walked out of his studio feeling as dramatic as the actresses on those infamous Spanish Soaps.
Until one day, I wasn’t the only person there. I had to wait almost an hour for my set appointment. And when the two women before me walked out, I noticed that their hair bore a striking similarity to that bouffant do I had been looking forward to receiving that day.
I realized then that it wasn’t me and my hair that he knew, it was every Latin woman that walked through his door. He had found his niche and worked it well. I should have been disappointed but really, as long as he was making each of us feel glamorous walking out his door, what difference did it make if every Latin woman in the greater Denver area had the same hair style as me.
So, as I sat in the chair and asked for my usual cut, I knew I would be walking out of his small salon feeling just as dazzling as the two women before me. And really that’s all that matters when it comes to a good hair cut, right.