Seeing red
I might need a new category for stupid things Mel B. does.
Stick with me … This might be a long story.
If you want your info now: My hair is streaky raspberry red and I went to a seminar this way.
Now, for the long, meandering story…
I decided to get my hair cut and highlighted in preparation for going home to my dad’s house. The logic was: my hair looks like crap, like I don’t do anything with it, and it’s been forever since I’ve had a haircut. Mostly because I haven’t been able to afford a really nice one at Fresno prices.
So payday last week was the big day, after which I felt comfortable scheduling a hair appointment. The problem is that when you move to a new place, it takes a while to find the right person to cut your hair. I’d settled on a guy in a trendy part of town who was small on words and pricey, but did a good job on fine hair.
Until he cashed a check I’d written for $6 more than it should’ve been. I blame the shoddy handwriting. Probably he didn’t even realize it, and it was a bank error. But it was an extra $6 tip to an already generous amount. So I got it fixed. Then I felt guilty about stiffing my hairstylist over $6, but there it was. I also haven’t been able to afford a haircut since then, so I let it go. I also found out that he moved salons and I don’t know where he went.
So I started asking around for a new place. A friend recommended a new place she’d tried, at a day spa. So I started calling last Friday, trying to get an appointment. No answer. Answering machine during business hours. Fine. I found out that they only open when they have appointments. Well, that’s fine, but they could be missing out on walk-in business too.
I called again on Monday. No answer. I finally left a message and by Tuesday, someone had gotten back to me. And I found out the stylist was booked up until the day I’d be leaving for Michigan. Not going to work.
Now I’m desperate. My friend at work called me a procrastinator, which I objected to. I didn’t procrastinate. I couldn’t afford it until now. And what kind of a business never checks messages?
So I started looking up places to go and happened on someone giving a local beauty college a good review. I thought, why the hell not? It’ll be cheaper, anyway.
You may get what you pay for, though I’m not displeased though still a little shellshocked. I paid less than half what I would have paid to the high-end stylist. But I had to argue with the guy cutting my hair about not getting blond highlights. I’m not a blond girl, I said. If I went home to Michigan blond, they’d laugh me out of the state. Someone at work later said, and they’re going to be nice about that … pause … color?
It’s raspberry right now. Not subtle at all. The stylist talked me into a deeper red than I was comfortable with because he said the color I wanted (a bright strawberry red) would fade quickly. Now, this color, he says, will fade to the color you want in a couple of weeks. The color is already taming down, by the way.
We also argued about length. We agreed on layers but he wanted to leave it the same length. Frankly, the reason I really wanted to cut my hair was that it was getting too long and was driving me nuts. But I’d been told I don’t take enough chances, so I decided to just let the stylist do what he wanted.
Most people at work were shocked but enjoyed it. Most of the comments are positive from a place that doesn’t specialize in commenting on appearance. I normally could come in with horns on my head and people would politely not comment. New shirt? Usually just the nicer people within my immediate department would say something. If they were in a good mood.
But this raspberry red? Someone I rarely see saw me and made a point of saying something nice about it over the phone. I must stand out like a raspberry neon beacon.
And now, after everyone complimented me on the daringness, I half feel bad that my hair is going to tame down to a more natural color. I hope so, anyway.
So I guess the dumb move was trying such a drastic hair color change shortly before returning home, since I was intending to look nice, naturally tanned and put together. Now I just look like I’m revisiting the youth I never really had.
Adding to the dumbness was the fact that I had to attend a seminar for work today. In the page design world, it featured some well-known rock stars. Rock stars who would be critiquing pages. Rock stars whose portfolios I’ve seen for years and admired with awe.
And I had to show them my work with raspberry red hair.
Nice.
At least I dressed in professional clothes, which almost no one else did. Even the presenters dressed more casually in jeans and casual shirts.
I’d like to think the slacks and nice shirt would offset the purple-red.
And then I noticed in the bright sun, as we were walking back in from lunch, that my pants were not the black I thought, but a deep brown that did not match the blue and black striped shirt I was wearing, nor the borderline-scruffy black penny loafers.
It’s hard to notice unless you see the shoes and pants together and look very closely, but I was still embarrassed.
These rock stars could be in a position someday to remember a lowly designer. And that’s how I looked.
Ah well. I’m not that worried about it. My critique went well and I feel like I have some direction.
Now for the next step, I have to go home and show everyone the raspberry hair. At least I gave my dad a heads up (har har) about the hair.
I am very much looking forward to going home. Even if everyone laughs at me. At least I’m not blond.
