Ode to Jessie, Quintessential Male Stylist

This morning I decided that I couldn't procrastinate any longer. I need a haircut. It's been seven months, and my hair is TOO LONG. All the layers have grown out and any resemblance of the original masterpiece that it was is long gone.

The reason it's been so long since my last haircut is that my stylist left me. He broke up with me, in the worst way possible. He left the oh-so-cute, charming, not-trendy-even-though-it's-on-South-Congress salon that I first met him at. I remember our first meeting like it was yesterday. It was practically love at first sight. I was in a similar situation to the one I'm in today, in which I was very overdue for a haircut. My mane was a wreck because my last stylist had left me a while back, and his replacement had given me an unsatisfactory cut. I was terrified to try anyone else, so I didn't. For a long time. Several months later, I realized that even a bad haircut couldn't possibly look any worse than the grown out mess currently attached to my head. So in a fit of despair, I went on Yelp, chose a salon with high ratings, took a deep breath and called to schedule an appointment. Surprisingly, they had an opening that day, which was phenomenal because I had no time to back out in a last minute state of panic. That is how I met Jessie (yes, it's spelled with an 'i'). He was a "junior" stylist at the surprisingly laid back salon that happened to be in the middle of one of the "trendiest" boutique neighborhoods in town, and he happened to have an opening in his schedule on the busiest day of the week (Saturday). I told him how I wanted my hair to look, and shared with him how nervous I was to have someone cut my hair. He just smiled and said, "Let's go get you shampooed."

Famous last words, but I dutifully followed him to the sink, since I figured it was probably too late to run away now. But fate had dealt me a good hand that day, because Jessie was everything and more that I had hoped he'd be. He didn't make a ton of small talk (which I HATE), but the silence wasn't awkward. I was able to relax as he took his sweet time cutting and trimming and eyeing and cutting some more. And then he blew it dry and styled it. And it was amazing. For the first time in my life, I didn't have the urge to run back home and restyle it immediately. Of course, I had doubts that I'd be able to replicate it later on, but it turned out to be easy to style and kept on looking good, even months after. I couldn't believe my good fortune. And of course, when the time came, I went right back to Jessie for my next cut. He shyly told me that he'd raised his prices by $5, to which I replied that it was still a steal at the new price and not a problem at all. And it was a steal. The salon's prices were very reasonable, and much lower than the average compared to other salons in the area. Once again, Jessie cut my hair, taking at least an hour and half to meticulously perfect it. And again it was perfection.

And then he was gone. I can only assume that all my praise went to his head, and he decided to move on to somewhere that he could charge what his styling was actually worth. Fine. I can understand that, you've got to do what's best for you, Jessie. But to leave without any notice, without accurate contact information, without even so much as a "see ya later"? How could you? Do you know the kind of stress you've just brought down on me?? I've called and called your old salon, and the number you gave them for the salon that you left me for is not even a working number. They've told me the name of the salon, and I've called all the salons in town with similar names, but nobody's heard of you. I'm devastated. How do I go on?

And so I find myself in the same situation as last year, without a stylist and so terrified to try anyone else that I've just let my hair grow with wild abandon. But I can't manage it any longer, so I spent three hours today researching online and calling salons, looking for any male stylist with reasonable pricing and availability and in the next few days. Nothing. So I did something I swore I'd never do again. I made an appointment with a female hairstylist. And I'm terrified.

Before you judge me, hear me out. I have nothing against women. I am one. I think they're pretty great. But my past experiences have lead me to a truth that I know to be real. Men and women hairstylists are not created equal. I have formulated a theory as to why that is. I believe that when you walk into a salon, sit down in the styling chair and pour out your hopes and dreams to the stylist looking at you in the mirror, they respond in one of two ways, depending on their gender. The male stylist listens, nodding politely until you've finished describing the vision you have for your hair. He then asks questions as necessary for clarification, ponders thoughtfully for a moment, and proceeds to do his best to create the look you have asked him for. The female stylist has a similar approach, at first glance. She listens as well, asks questions, and then goes to work. The difference is that when you walk in the salon door and are escorted back to meet your female stylist, the moment she sees you, before you have even said a word, she has already begun to create her own vision for your hair. In her head, she's already thinking that gosh, that woman needs some face-framing layers and she's much too short to have hair that long and wouldn't her skin tone just GLOW with a few caramel highlights. She can't help it. She's a woman. That's what we do. So you sit down and describe what YOU want for your hair, and she listens, she really does, but in her head is that image that she's already created, and even though she hears you, she's already subconsciously decided in which direction your hair needs to go. And that's how you end up with a hairdo that isn't quite what you thought you wanted. 

Now, you're either nodding your head in agreement or foaming at the mouth in anger after reading the last paragraph. I know it's a polarizing thing to say, but I'm pretty confident that I'm right about this. And I'll admit that there might actually be some good hairstylists that are women out there. It's totally possible that there are exceptions to the rule. I just haven't met them yet. I can honestly say that I have never had a good haircut from a woman. I'm not joking and I'm not exaggerating. Since I was a teenager and started paying for my own haircuts, I have lived this truth. Heck, I didn't even know there was such a thing as a good haircut until I was in my twenties. For years, I went to the same stylist that my mom did. In hindsight, that probably should have been my first clue. Not that my mom's hair didn't look good; it did. But my mom's been getting her haircut the same way for as long as I can remember. I guess she finds something she likes and she sticks to it. Every time I got my haircut, I'd rush home and try to comb out all the crazy products and re-wet and blow my hair dry to see if I could make it look the way I'd wanted. And I never quite could. This went on for years. Then one day my sister got married. And this hairstylist of my mom's did her hair that day. She brought another stylist from her salon to help with the bridesmaids' hair, of which I was one. This stylist happened to be male. And when I told him how I wanted my hair to look, he did it. Just the way I wanted. Of course it was just an up do, and not an actual haircut, but it was a start.

When the time came, I booked my next haircut with him and I never looked back. He did very well by me, and I was much happier with my hair overall. Until I moved to another state. I still tried to get him to cut my hair, scheduling with him anytime I was in town to visit my family, but the visits just weren't frequent enough, and his schedule couldn't accommodate such short notice. And so the story continues...I had a list of haircuts, by women, that I didn't like. So once again I stopped cutting my hair. After several months with unruly hair and abundant split ends, I bit the bullet and walked in to a nationally recognized chain salon. And a stylist had an opening, so I sat down and let him chop away. And I ended up with a great haircut. Ecstatic, I tried to book him again a few months later, but nope, he'd already left and no, they didn't know where he'd gone, do you want to make an appointment with our (female) master stylist who happens to have an opening today? Sure, why not. And...bad haircut...and months without a haircut again. The cycle continued on and on, until I found Jessie. And now he's left me, too.

I have no idea what will happen on Wednesday. I'm mildly comforted by the thought that nothing could look worse than my hair already does. And by mildly comforted, I mean that I'm hyperventilating.