In the Eye of the Beholder

As experiences go, a trip to the beauty shop, salon or manicurist has got to be up there in the “feel good” department. Investing time for a little pampering for yourself, which is so ultimately enjoyable that it could be considered almost illegal, is an occasion in itself.  The charge is minimal, taking into account the dramatic changes that can occur.  The mental stimulation and stress reduction is valuable beyond dollars.  The smile on your face when you exit and the heads you turn en route to your next engagement or when you get home is priceless.

Stylists, beauticians, designers, specialists of hair, nails and procurers of magnificence are at the hub of activity and no matter what they are called, the fact is that these folks possess the mysteries of life and are willing to uphold untold secrets.  The gentle lulling of their voices and the power they brandish with their brushes and blow dryers entice one to open up and spew forth information that typically would be saved for private conversations between best friends or clergy.  I have found myself commenting on numerous topics that would normally not see the light of day, but in the confines of a stylist’s chair or ensconced in the huddle with the manicurist the words effortlessly slip from my mouth.  With a knowing nod and a few coaxing words from the professional the tête-à-tête continues to the point of no return.  Cautiously you scan the room for eavesdroppers only to observe everyone else is chronicling their own report to a captivated set of ears.

Beyond the obvious psychiatric services that are received, I am in awe of the stamina, endurance and proficiency in their given trade that these folks hold.  The ability to transform, the power to “make over” and the influence to change appearance with a snip, a color or an “up-do” is impressive.  Even my esteemed spousal unit doesn’t wield the same influence that my stylist does when they suggest to “lose the bangs”, “cover up the gray”, or “go a little shorter”.  I entrust these specialized individuals and applaud them for their results… even when I don’t look like the picture I brought in (knowing that I only have so much they can work with).

In each country I have lived and visited I have gone to get my hair and nails done.  From the finest salons in Paris to a front porch with chickens passing through in Costa Rica, the cultural experiences you receive are similar to the ones you can get at your neighborhood salon.  Although it is quite an adventure when you don’t speak German, Spanish, French or even the Queen’s English, or know how to verbalize (pointing and laughing works) what style you want, the places I have visited for the quintessential beauty regime have really been much the same.  All have been quite pleasurable and the surprise of a new German style (who would have thought that oxymoron really does work) to be the best change I had ever made to my hair.  They have been the nucleus of the community where the women can congregate to rejuvenate their soul, reconnect with friends and know that after just a few short hours of sprucing up that all is right with the world.

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life. Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-