Another bad hair day

One of the things I miss the most about DC is Dragan. Dragan and I found each other too late because I was only with him about six months before we left - despite years of recommendations from Kate and Melissa that I give him a try. He's one of those stylists who was friendly yet confident and just gave a great cut. Now he's out of my life and I'm still searching for his replacement in Portland....two years later.

I went through a couple of stylists very quickly before finding one that I've been with for more than a year now. But last Friday, I fired her. Well, not exactly fired her - but I did cancel my appointment. I decided that after multiple tries I'm not sure she's the one for me. At first I really liked her and even got one cut I really liked - but I have to say that the last three or so cuts have been inconsistent. And I started pulling my hair back almost immediately after the cut, which is never a good sign. So, on a whim last week I made an appointment with someone new.

Now, this is a good time to point out that I don't do anything in my life without researching it to death and generally spending way too much time overanalyzing it before I take action. But, I like to think that's what makes me, me. So of course I have been doing weeks of research on who this new individual might be. Based on several "credible" sources (is citysearch credible?), I chose Fred at a salon that shall be unamed, but I will say it is on one of the fancier streets in Portland.

I called the salon last Friday - actually excited to begin my new hair adventure - and got a very friendly receptionist who easily fits me in for this Friday morning (as in, today). Warning sign #1? Perhaps. So I walk up to the salon door this morning and there is a big sign out front that says "walk-ins welcome." Warning sign #2? Perhaps. But I go up and am eagerly greeted inside this cute little townhouse with a nice paint color on the walls. I immediately wonder what color and brand it is. (Always have to keep my eyes open since repainting our entire interior is #800 on the home improvement list.) But, I digress.

I walk up the cute little stairway and am greeted at the top by Fred. (By the way, I've changed his name to protect the innocent since I'm still a little nervous about this whole Internet journal thing). The first thing I notice about Fred is that it looks like he could use a few value meals from Micky D's to get a little more meat on his bones. Or if I'm speaking in true Portlander mode, I'd say Burgerville because Portlanders are very into promoting local businesses who support sustainability versus big corporate giants. But at any rate - know what I'm saying?

But body type aside, Fred seems very nice and I wasted no time launching into my hair's life story with him. "Well, you see, it all started when I was about five years old and I decided to get a Dorothy Hamill haircut..." When I finished, Fred looked a bit perplexed and confused. Warning sign #3? Perhaps. He stepped back, looked. Stepped back, looked. After a bit of chit chat back and forth he says, "I'd like to get a second opinion on your hair." Huh? Ummm, okay. Naturally, I'm wondering who he's going to call in to consult on my hair with him. And, it's safe to say that by this point, I'm not feeling completely comfortable with Fred making even one snip. But apparently he wasn't either, because he told me so. "I'm just afraid I'm going to do something you won't like, so I'd like you to talk with our other curly hair expert woman here." Ummm, okay.

Unfortunately, other random curly hair expert woman is not there on Fridays, so we made an appointment for me to go back on Sunday afternoon for a consult and potentially a cut if I'm comfortable. Fred said no big deal at all if I decide I want to bag the haircut after speaking with her. "She'll just take a long lunch!," he said. Ummm, okay. Oh, and curly hair expert woman had several appt. times open both tomorrow and Sunday. Warning sign #4? Perhaps.

So now heck if I know what to do, but I have to say that I'm just darn tempted to cancel the whole Sunday thing and go crawling back to my original lady. At least I won't have actually gotten my hair cut by anyone else when I crawl back. I'll just have pretended like I was going to. Sigh. Why do relationships have to be so difficult?

Until I write again.