I saw a French Poodle whose hair looked better than mine.
the night before all the hair salons reopen, like buying tickets for a Springsteen concert.
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Susannah’s Fall, Winter Reading List, 2020-2021
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Humbled Beauty
I have visions of women camping out in sleeping bags
She’s lucky I didn’t pull her tail.
This entry was posted in animals, Beauty, Culture, Fashion, humanity, humor, New York City, Politics, words, writing and tagged Beauty sheltering in place, French Poodles, Unwanted gray hair, vanity. Bookmark the permalink.
Mine just gets long with no color issues. I can do long. Not sure the color thing would sit right. Good luck with your sleeping bag.
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L L Bean makes a great one, lined with flannel. Nothing like camping out on Third Ave and 59th. 🙂
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Hahaha. You could use a Bloomies doorway perhaps.
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By the make-up counter. 🙂
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There you go. No one will notice you at all. 😁(do they make Louis Vitton sleeping bags?)
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I’ll be they do. That Louis has his hand in everything. I actually own a pot holder, an embarrassing gift from an opulent friend who assumed I had everything.
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I would think the same thing. Sounds like a laugh out loud gift for sure. 😁
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It’s a bit grand when your most ambitious dish is scrambled eggs.
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Hahahaha. Think how special the eggs feel.
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Hahaha. Yes, they smile at me. I guess that’s why they’re sunny side up. 🙂
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As Bruce S would sing….Glory Days of the barber will return.
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Will the line around the block.
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Oh, that is amusing! Sleeping bag lines for the hairdresser! Will they have to stay six feet apart?
Do poodles PANDA to people?
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Not sure, but they do out FOX them, quite often.
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In the marketplace WEASEL dog costumes.
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You’re LION.
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I’ll tell the truth until my voice is HORSE.
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No matter since you’re such a LAMB!
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Baa! Baa! Humbug! I’m glad I don’t wear a GOATee.
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Yeah, but you’re still the CAT’s pajamas.
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Did you see the BIG HORNet’s nest?
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It was incredible. it was the BEE’s knees.
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I was a WASP by definition — white Anglo Saxon Protestant.
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I was a SHAKER, quite salty, peppering my way.
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LOL! That is funny!
We have a relative who is a PROTEST AUNT. She protests everything.
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That was a slam dunk Anne. You’re so clever that I’m QUAKER-ing in my boots with a SOCIETY OF FRIENDS.
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I don’t colour. I’m committed to growing old disgracefully. But my hairdresser has a broken wrist. I cut my own last week. I’m not sharing photos. Some aspects of social distancing are a blessing.
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We all look like farm animals, just not as good. My hair grows up, like a shrub so not only am I taller, but my head looks twice the size. I keep plastering it with oil which works for a little while, but now I smell like a salad. Why is there always a downside. sigh
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Is that a seize her salad?
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That’s a good one. Hail Caesar!
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For a second, I thought you’d cut your wrist.😁. I like the idea of growing old disgracefully.
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That was a good line.
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So funny… my hairdresser called me yesterday to inform me that they were NOT opening any time soon (I didn’t think they were!) I took advantage of the call to ask her if she thought the dye she sold me three years ago when she was going through her cancer treatment would still be good. She said it definitely would not harm my hair and to have at it. I have come to realise that if I let the grey continue, I shall be a perfect skunk. I only have one stripe in the front (kinda like Stacey London but wider)… considering keeping it. Haven’t decided yet!!
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I’m covering the mirrors with black crepe, like when Lincoln died.
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A friend of mine is married to a Vietnamese woman who does not own a mirror! What??!! She says she doesn’t need to look at herself and find fault if her husband says she’s beautiful… what a great attitude. I’ll never go there but hey…
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She must be very good at applying make-up. I’d be putting lipstick on my ears. I will say, I’ll bet sales go down with mask life. You can’t wear it or all your masks look as if they belong to Joan Crawford. sigh
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She doesn’t wear any. At. All. I dunno. At least take a look at my hair?
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She must be a natural beauty then. sigh
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To her husband’s eye, absolutely. And for her, that’s all that counts.
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Yeah, you said it sista.
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We should all learn from her…
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Maybe she’ll give a lecture, on Zoom.
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Haha! She has such a heavy Vietnamese accent… and she giggles a lot. I bet it would be fun.
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I’ll bet too. What’s a little accent.
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🙂
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I was born with curly hair. I apparently acquired it from my dad. Pictures of him from his childhood showed a kid with an unruly mop of curls. When he was 18 he joined the Air Force and, in 1951, he got it all cut off as he was inducted into the military. For the last 69 years, he has never let it grow long enough to see any of the natural curl. But then the pandemic came and his barber shop shut down. It’s been a couple of months since his last haircut and the curl is driving him crazy. I offered to give him a shave the next time I come over. Which will be tomorrow.
He’s looking so forward to this that he wrote a blog post about his hair history. How he absolutely hated the hair when he was a kid and how much he is looking forward to this haircut.
I hated mine as well. It was amazing reading his blog post because some of the childhood experiences he described were identical to mine. All of the old ladies at school oohing and aahing over this hair he couldn’t stand. I had the same experience.
When I was in high school, I started blow drying my hair … which gave me a massive afro. When I hit 20, I got it cut and styled and lost the fro. And then about 15 years ago, I just started shaving it off. For a few months, I close shaved it so I was truly a cue ball. I got tired of that, so now I just get the electric clippers and take care of things every few weeks. I hope to never see those curls again. 🙂
Anyway … sorry that I kidnapped your comments section to tell my story. It’s just funny how these random things come out and make a connection.
Good luck to you upon your return to the hair salon!
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No apologizes necessary, since your thirst for WRITING clearly needed quenching. Get your journal out Mark and put something down. Log a few miles. I mean it.
Love the image of your dad’s hair driving him nuts. I can certainly relate as I sit here with olive oil on mine slicked back like Sal Mineo. Now there’s a blast from the past. Have one word for ya Midget…WRITE!!!
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I’ve never journaled, except to the extent I do so on my blog. So … but I have a couple of short stories I started in conjunction with writing challenges. I’m going to try to see if I can finish one or two of those.
This morning’s barbering event appears to have been successful. My dad’s head is much lighter and he is much happier.
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And I, envious. I’m looking like a mushroom. Sigh. Yes, FINISH YOUR STORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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You can’t look too bad, Susannah, or you wouldn’t have been asked for your ID. Pookie did a good job on coloring, but I’d never let him near me with scissors.
His hair is super curly and cut short. (He had an afro when we were younger) On the morning of his brother’s wedding, over 40 years ago, I cut his hair. This was after harping on him for a week to get it cut professionally. Let’s just say it was a very unfortunate and traumatic experience for him. He won’t let me near his hair again and he now looks like a hobo.
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Poor Pookie. And how nice he didn’t seek revenge or you might have a stripe down the back of your head. 🙂
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I once asked him to cut the back of my hair. Just a straight line across the bottom. I swear it took at least fifteen minutes with lots of sound effects, like he was doing something really strenuous and difficult. I didn’t complain, but the result was crooked!
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Love the idea of sound effects. Pookie Muzak. 🙂
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My aunt used to cut my hair when I was younger since she had come over from Cuba and straight into the hairdresser game. Well known and so damned good at what she did. It was the barter system with her in high school once I had my wheels. She cut my hair and I would take her out to the Harp and Mandolin in Bayside. Worked out well for all parties.
Later it was my wife, until I met the hairdresser of my dreams, Judi. Thus began a beautiful relationship with a girl who cut my hair like nobody’s business. I had an in with her that allowed me to come by the mall before it opened, since some of the girls took clients early like that. I’d get my hair cut before work and all was right with world until she went and fell in love and moved away. Broke my heart. Well, it broke my streak of luck when it came to hairdressers anyways.
Then my daughter picked things up again and did Judi to a standstill for me. Until she moved to Santa Fe for school for a while. After which I took her lessons and began applying it to my own self, cutting my own hair. Been doing it ever since.
Damn, that was a long winded comment!
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Wow…wish I could cut my own hair. It’s hasn’t been this long in 25 years. I love your hair travelogue. From your Aunt, to your wife to Judi to your daughter, to you. 🙂
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It’s been a long, strange and wonderful trip.
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Sounds it.
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Miss SB …. You’re looking good!
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if you squint.
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Lol … Keep channeling your inner Audrey.
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She too needs her hair done. 🙂
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I’m lucky that I can cut my own hair, although shave my head is closer to the truth. I’m letting my beard grow so we’ll see how long it gets. Hair dressers are going to be working overtime at the end of this though.
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And will probably double their price. When opportunity knocks, or a plague rather. A beard eh? Abe, move over. 🙂
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For the record, Tony Orlando is currently looking back at me in the mirror. It’s the mustache that’s most startling.
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That’s pretty funny. When you start seeing Dawn too, that’s when you’ll really have a problem.
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i’m concerned about the ‘girl in the box’.
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Every morning when I go run, she’s asleep in her box. So life is probably more or less the same for her, and that’s a good thing for now. No one has asked her to leave her little niche by the church that remains closed. Many of the homeless are being chased since the city shut down but she’s, let’s say, sheltering in her own place. I think she is faring in her own way. It’s sweet that you think of her.
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