After three not-so-great haircuts in San Francisco — all of them from the alleged "best" salons in town — I am now going to become one of those awful, obnoxious people who doesn't get her hair cut in town. In Los Angeles, Christine Symonds at Warren-Tricomi gave me a snip that, no kidding, made me feel GIDDY. (See picture at right.) It was just what I wanted, a better version of me. I thought about flying to LA to have her cut it again, but not only is that environmentally awful, it's impractical, and besides, when do I have time?
So I went to yet another salon here in SF. This crappy cut from January was the worst so far, but this weekend's is the one that made me cry. Details are unimportant, but even after going back to have them fix it, it's uneven. And the only way to make it right is to go even shorter. I usually don't feel very attractive anyway, but now I feel even worse. I should have fled the salon the moment they mentioned that Devendra Banhart gets his hair cut there. If you need me, I'll just be hiding in my house for the next four months.
Labels: vanity, weird obsession with finding perfect haircut
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