Readers from home deserve an update and both before and after shots. I now have a “frenzied” haircut, thanks to my efforts to ‘hair model’ for Toni & Guy in Ulsan. I wouldn’t call it real hair modeling, as I think the purpose of my cut was more for the stylist to 1. practice and 2. update his portfolio. They gave me five uber-short choices, and mine is from the salon’s “Interactive Collection 2009“.
I had finally grown my hair out from a horribly mom-ish cut I had done senior year of college. It was way over 10 inches-long enough to donate! I’ve been longing to get a body wave or something for forever, and the length was also finally appropriate for some really good braids and buns and all manners of other unstylish ’dos that I like to…do. But it was hot. And heavy. And tangly. And I never bothered styling it. It was all I could do to blowdry the mess. It took forever to wash, and it took loads of products to maintain.
Photos courtesy John, via my camera.
Can you tell I’m excited? In the two weeks leading up to the appointment (from the time of consultation), I had moments of doubt and despair. But every time, I realized that this was only sentimentality talking, and that I COULDN’T WAIT to feel the breeze on my neck. I think the last time my hair was even close to this short was in 1994, when I was still wearing timberlands with sundresses and playing with pogs.
The experience was great. All the stylists wear funky clothes and fun cuts, which reminded me of Bang back in DC. The girl with the best English had long, curled, dyed hair, and faux eyelashes. The manager with slightly more broken English had a severe blunt cut, lensless horn-rimmed glasses, and wore a spandex minidress and suspenders in bright colors. All of the stylists wore platforms or shape-ups. They serve coffee in English teacups and I drank water from a large crystal goblet. 필립 (“PILL-up” aka Phillip) knew enough English to pose in the mirror and say “I’m sorry!” as he grinned and began hacking at my inch-plus-thick ponytail. He was a spiky-haired cutie in a purple cardigan and gray skinny jeans. After the initial hack and a relaxing shampoo, he spent at least an hour shaping, or should I say: whittling, my hair down to its present thinness (pausing once more to smile and apologize). To aid in the styling stages, he used a spray mousse and a sea salt spray that I LOVED. I smelled like the beach. Suspender lady kept coming over to play with my hair and encourage me with assurances of “FRENZY! you know, FRENZY!” Except it sounded more like “frengee” when spoken in her Korean accent.