Scalped…Cash Only

The fact that I’m resembling Elvis has become a concern, so when I get a surprise call from my hairdresser at midnight, I’m overjoyed.

“What are ya doin?” he asks.

“I’m in bed, awake, after falling asleep after lunch, and you?”

“Up for a color and a cut?”

“Well I’m up. Will ya take a check?”

“Cash only.”

Which is why I’m at the all night ATM hummin’ a happy tune.

I tell my doorman who’s like Dillinger in a uniform, who I’m expecting.

“Mums the word,” he says, in islandese so it comes out more like, Mooms the word.

15 minutes later.

Chagall shows up as if we’re doing espionage, giving me a strong urge to put on a trench coat.

He snakes in, looks both ways, mask in place like he’s about to raid the safe, lugging in a huge bag filled with what I can only call, female essentials, proceeding to mow my head like the lawn, using an electric razor I so hope doesn’t wake the building,

There’s so much hair on my floor, I’m thinking of crocheting a toup for a friend.

Then he washes that gray right outta my hair in the kitchen sink, and though now in a neck brace, look a whole lot better, despite it being a little short.

How short?

Like I’ve enlisted in the Wacs, that sounds rather apt, doesn’t it?

As Chagall is about to leave, Dillinger covertly asks, “Hey, could you give me a trim?”

And he does, right there on the sidewalk.    

Only in New York folks. Only in New York.

SB

 

 

 

About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
This entry was posted in Beauty, creative writing, Fashion, Home, humanity, humor, New York City, words, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

64 Responses to Scalped…Cash Only

  1. As you say, “Only in New York!”

    It’s in my head now, “Gonna wash that man right outta my hair.”. And you washed out the gray!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. skinnyuz2b says:

    Pookie is like an elephant with a long memory and still won’t let me near his curly hair again. He looks like a mountain man.
    My own tresses are approaching Rapunzel length (slight exaggeration). I’ll be prepared if I get locked in a tower.
    I’m glad you got a surprise coif refreshing. It puts a spring in your step.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Vasca says:

    Wow, Susannah you’re one lucky girl…mine hasn’t been this long in I can’t remember when but it’s growing on me!!! Really! So far the silver is barely peeking out from under the cover…any day now it’s sure to make a big show! Presently it’s playing peek-a-boo in my bangs! These days we have to take stuff whenever and wherever it’s available. Love things only in New York. Hugs!

    Like

  4. kingmidget says:

    I was expecting some before and after pictures.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I know I’m easy, but this would crack up even the sourest of pusses. A good laugh and a thank you. 😁

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Dale says:

    A friend of mine, who wears her hair short like you, had an encounter with her hairdresser on the down-low as well… However, she decided fuck it. She was done with the colouring. It was shorn really short so that it wouldn’t look like she was growing it out, so to speak. Looks fab on her and she said she’s never going back.
    I am still considering whether or not to leave my streak that has appeared. It’s not all over grey (yet). Something tells me that I am thisclose to hiding it again, though. Dunno. I look at the three-inch growth and think… maybe, Could I pull off the Stacey London look? Even if mine is wider than hers?

    Liked by 1 person

  7. robprice59 says:

    I’ve cut my own mop twice, imposed by lock-down and my usual dresser’s broken wrist. It’s not great but still better than turning out like an ageing hippy.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Sorryless says:

    I go back and forth on the hair thing. I seem to have enjoyed a third act with my hair, which was very unexpected but much appreciated. Thing is, I need to cut it . . . as I am not a conductor for the philharmonic. And as such, I’ve deliberated as to whether I will cut it . . . or cut it ALL off. Decisions . . decisions!

    As for your New York story, it’s nice to see its funky, unpredictable heart beat is still kicking in such funky, fabulous ways.

    Like

  9. That would make a great story, a stealth hairdresser that breaks curfew. I loved this.

    Like

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