An Open Letter to My Amazing CNY Hairdresser
They say you don't appreciate something until it's gone. That is true about so many things right now. Towards the top of the list is hairdressers.
My Dearest Loveliest Hairdresser (Kayla),
Yesterday, I had to attempt to color my own roots. On a good day, my hair style can best be described as a curly, chaotic haystack. It's a lot to manage - let's just say that.
I was lucky enough to have a hair appointment about a week before the coronavirus hit the fan, but the inch of grey-haired regrowth let me know the time had come - I had to color my roots. I thought "how hard could it be? You just squirt a little color on there, rinse it out - and voila - no roots."
Oh Kayla - I was so so wrong.
The first step was trying to determine the right color to use. My roots are dark brown and gray - my hair is highlighted. It's all so confusing. I cheated and messaged you on Facebook. I got 'light brown' as instructed. Then I read the instructions on the box: "Divide hair into 1/4" sections." WHAT?? I had to recruit help.
I'll be honest - I just gave up - I looked for anything grey on my head, squirted some color on to it, and rubbed it in. Also, the gloves made my hands slippery, I dropped the bottle and splattered color everywhere. RIP white bath mat.
I have always appreciated you - but I never realized how much actual skill goes into what you do. I mean, I knew, but I didn't KNOW. You - and all your hairdressing brothers and sisters - are special people. The Governor may not think you're essential - but I sure do. Thank you - and I can't wait to see you again. I'll even sweep up my own hair.
I want you to know I sent you the tip you would have gotten if I had my scheduled appointment. It's the least I can do for someone who has been there for me and my roots for years.