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I decided to wait to post this entry because Farhan shanghied my photos on his computer and I just now got it back. We were both well overdue for a trim. So after Kouk Son Do we walked over to Mods Hair Paris, a bright salon in the up and coming district of Daejeon. At the front desk, two women took our frump-- bags, hats, gloves and copious layers of coats, sweatshirts, scarfs, etc.-- and led us to two unoccupied salon chairs near a large open window. Instantly eight women swarmed over -- four per head-- armed with brushes, scisors, hairdryers. They swarmed around us, wetting, snippning, brushing, straightening, drying, styling. It was an all out hairdresser's orgie. Celeste and I both endulged as they shampooed and cut us. Celeste didn't think her hair could be any straighter or healthier until she saw the alchamy they'd performed. There was one designated as queen bee over each of our heads. It was she who would issue the orders to the other three bees who practically saluted her with instant obediance. My Queen bee excersized her hairdressers-issue carte blanche by styling my head without consulting me. I never thought I'd see myself with straight hair again. I looked like Jacco Pastorious.
Hairdressers on Fire--Scottro [2003-06-29]
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