Creative Hair Graphics
A Travel-Inspired Story
Donna was tired of working at Great Clips. Sure, the pay was steady, but the gig had no soul. Just like the people who came in. They were nice, but boring as hell.
“A little off the top, please.”
“I’m thinking of doing something drastic, like a bob.”
“Just the blonde highlights today, dear.”
Donna gave them what they asked for. It was her core belief that hair was an extension of your innermost being. Whatever lurked in the corners of your heart was expressed through the top of your head like a neon sign; a logo shining out as an advertisement of who you truly were. If these people’s hearts were filled with boring beige graphics, who was she to tell them to try something a little edgier?
And though she was able to respect the wishes of the people in her chair, their lack-luster style ate at her. Their very presence did too. The more she listened to them prattle on and on about the most banal things, the more drained she became. She nodded obediently as they talked about kids, dogs and desk jobs. She gasped dutifully as they shared gossip from their church or book club. But none of it was actually interesting. Not to Donna, anyway. Her clients never told stories about a mountain they scaled or the art they were making or their latest ayahuasca trip. Now that, she would be interested in.
After one particularly dull day, Donna was walking home along Galveston street and feeling sorry for herself. She didn’t want to leave Bend — it was her hometown after all — but she felt stuck in a place she didn’t belong. The idea of moving to a more inspired city like New York scared her. Was fulfillment worth throwing away all she had here? Was happiness even possible, or just an illusion? Should she get on meds?
“Bad day, dear?”
Donna shook herself out of her spiral to see who spoke. It was a petite, gray-haired woman. She was sweeping the cement walkway up to her house and looking at Donna tenderly behind wire-framed glasses.
“It’s only that you were muttering to yourself…” the woman continued when Donna was unable to answer.
“Yes. Sorry. A bad day. Or, no, not bad. Not really. It was fine. Sorry.”
“You sound confused about your day.”
“Confused about my life, more like it.” Donna was shocked by her own honesty.
“Oh, we’ve all been there.” The woman smiled encouragingly. “What’s the trouble?”
It may have been the kindness in the woman’s voice. It may have been her maternal energy. It may have been that Donna was drowning in a sea of indecision and desperate for any life raft. Whatever it was, it was enough for Donna to finally open up.
“I have so much, but it doesn’t fit. Not really. I have a steady job that pays me well, but I hate it. I have great friends, but they’re all busy with lives they love which makes me feel like the loser of our group. I have a nice apartment, but it’s got no charm. I want to feel better so I look for other things — new jobs, new apartments, new hobbies — but I just can’t seem to find something that’s right for me. I feel like I’m simultaneously stuck in place and lost while wandering. It’s exhausting and embarrassing and I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”
The woman leaned against her broom, silently assessing Donna who was now breathing hard from the labor of unburdening her soul. Wrinkled skin creased further as she narrowed her eyes. Donna toyed with her hair — blue this week and chopped in sporadic right angles — uncomfortable with the scrutiny.
Finally the woman said, “You seem like a hard person to find a fit for.”
Donna blushed at the achingly correct assessment.
“In which case,” the woman continued. “You should stop looking for something out there to fit you and make it yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if there’s nowhere that feels right for you, then you have to build your own place. Make something from scratch that’s custom fit to you. You’re not like everyone else. Why would you expect the things everyone else offers to work for you?”
Donna nodded slowly, but said, “I don’t know where to begin.”
“Start with what you love most.”
“I love hair,” Donna said. “I love doing hair and talking to interesting people.”
“So, do hair. Talk to people.”
“Well, I do. But the problem is the place I do it.”
“And?” The woman prompted like a school teacher.
“And I should leave and start my own salon?”
“Try again, but make it a declaration.”
“I should probably leave and start my own salon.” Donna softly said.
“Almost there,” the woman prodded.
“I am going to leave and start my own salon.” Donna said it a bit too loud and smiled at her own exuberance.
“Good girl,” the woman said with a wink. “As it happens, I’m putting my house on the market soon. It’s too big for just me and I’d love to sell it to a person with vision.”
Donna looked over the woman’s shoulder at the small, ranch-style home. It was just the right size and on a street with good foot traffic. It was understated, which was a problem, but not one she couldn’t solve.
“I love it,” Donna admitted. “But I hate beige. Can I paint it red?”
“Honey, you can do whatever you want.”
For the first time in a long time, Donna believed it.
Travel is one of my great loves. One reason is that I am constantly inspired. I find myself wondering at the lives of people I see or the backstory of the places I go. My imagination runs wild and I end up scribbling little vignettes into one of the notebooks I always carry.
This travel-inspired story started in Bend, Oregon. I was in town for two days with my husband. We were having a comically awful morning. I lost our car keys at a concert the night before and we were frantically trying to figure out how to get home to our kids. The venue didn’t open until noon so we decided to walk miles across town to find something to eat while we waited. That’s when I saw this stupendous sign. I crossed the street to snap a photo and peer in the window. Even with the press of stressful travel blunders, I couldn’t help myself from getting sucked into the peculiarity of this place. I didn’t write about it in the chaos of the day, but I couldn’t let it go. Thus, this story. I hope you enjoy it.
PS: We made it home just fine.
I just walked by this place in Bend! Also Donna reminds me so much of my hairdresser Emily (in the best of ways).
Brilliant. Now I wish I knew how closely this resembles the true owner’s journey!