With ease she moves across the salon. A modern day Moses, a sea of hair parts before her, as she makes her way to her chair. An accent thick as the Vodka native to her country, invites me to sit.We talk through mirrors. She lifts my hair and examines the complete and reckless abandonment, the damages of the sun, the wait between cuts. All the time, I, one eye peeking through the wet strands, am awed by the way she manages to tend to her femininity, her chaotic schedule, her four kids, her husband. She finds the time to outline her large brown almond eyes as Cleopatra would. Her lips glossy, the rouge on her cheekbones, perfectly blended.
I've seen this type of confidence growing up in Queens, in the many different immigrant homes I visited. I have seen the way so many of my friends moms followed beauty rituals that L'Orleal or Oil of Olay could not compete with. Somehow, we get lost between the pages of magazines, the images of celebrities and models photoshopped to perfection, and we lose connection to those rituals....assilimilation.....easy to tell the difference between us. Here I am, daughter of immigrants, dishelveled, and trying to make sense of what to do with what I have and where I should put it...and there before me is a salon filled with women who immigranted years ago, scarves tied around thier necks, heads, handbags, bangled up, beautifully manicured, and put together.
She smiles at me and begins:..what color do you want to try? What kind of cut do you want this time? What are you thinking? Useless, I never have an answer. I come unprepared. Ok, she says, I know what to do...as she turns to go get her coloring ready, she pays compliments to just about everyone. Some are given in Russian, and some are in English, the ones I can understand are basic....that color brings out your gorgeous eyes.....no darling, you are not getting older, you are getting better.....you have great skin.....love the way that cut looks on you...a warm pat on the shoulder, a sincere smile, and she continues on her way.
When she returns she tells me stories of growing up in Russia, her classical music training, she asks me what I want done with the boys hairs while we wait for my color to set. Again, I have come unprepared....keep it long I guess, but with shape....she returns victorious, 3 boys, less hairy, faces open to the world, somewhat more defined.
As she cuts my hair we speak some more. She says, "I always tell you, you need to put some effort, you are a beautiful girl"...."Girl? I'm 42, I say"...She says "you have great genes, you don't look it"..."Ah...the compliments" I sarcastically reply...stupid, considering she has scissors and my hair in her hands......."I'm in the business of beauty, but this is what I know....giving real compliments is like feeding people, it nourishes them and when they are nourished, they are healthier and happier. There is always something positive to say. And if you think about it, if they feel better about themselves after I finished, I look good too.....I did my job well. Take the compliments, and instead of rolling your eyes, look to find the merit in it.....The business of beauty goes beyond hair and makeup.....you have to work with what you have. You have to enhance what is there."
Feeling silly, I admit she is right. I always blame time restraints, lack of energy, or use the totem pole place of where grooming and appearance fit into my life and the "but just how important is it, everything else is so much more pressing" excuses......while the truth is yes, I am tired, yes I have very real responsibilites that outweigh any nail polished or eye shadowed.....Still, it's about the time spent on tending to a need that has to find it's space in my day. There should be no reason that I can't spend a few minutes laying down with a mask on my face every once in a while....or why I can't take 5 more minutes to put some blush and mascara on....maybe I can remember the scarf without having a friend remind me, or actually run a brush through my hair instead of shaking it and running, then pulling a pony tail holder off of my wrist and haphazardly wrapping it around my hair.....
Grooming is primal after all , she reminds me, look at the monkeys and gorillas........
Sounds good to me...now where is Bubbles......I'm thinking a chignon would be nice........
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