One of my first writing assignments as a freelancer was doing a story about women’s hair salons. Until that point, I’d never given my own hair—or anyone else’s—a second thought. And I certainly didn’t have a go-to stylist. (I only had a go-to price, which was 7 bucks.)
While doing the story, I discovered that a woman has a relationship with her hair that is more intimate, more turbulent, more emotional, and more volatile than the relationship she has with you. And the same can be said of her relationship with her stylist (who, by the way, knows more about your marriage than you do and never costs 7 bucks).
Over the years Tamara and I have talked about living abroad for at least a year. However, that would mean cutting ties with the phalanx of people it takes to cut, color, style, and weather-proof her hair. So I wondered if living abroad would be likely.
Until today. Tamara can officially move to Australia because she found Emma. She “found” Emma by stalking (er, befriending) a woman in a restaurant and asking who cut her hair. And just like that, all four of us where on our way to get haircuts from Emma, who is a fantastic stylist, but more importantly a wonderful person. We spent the afternoon at her beautiful home in the woods near Forest Glen, where we learned that a 6-foot python turned up on her doorstep one day.
After the cuts, we hung around and had coffee out on the veranda, met her husband Glenn, kids, and Emma’s true love, Danny, her spectacular Arabian horse. I think we’ve got them convinced to come visit us in Utah for a ski holiday. Danny is welcome to come along.
Thanks Emma. Now that Tam has someone she trusts to cut her hair, don’t be surprised if we become your neighbors someday. As soon as you clear out the snakes.