Hairgasm

I’m both cheap and loyal when it comes to lots of things, and particularly hair cuts. Well, not so cheap, my boyfriend and father would both argue that one shouldn’t have to pay more than $8 for a cut, and the place I usually go costs more like $45. Despite living in Boston and New York over the past seven years, both cities with plenty of capable stylists, the majority of my haircuts have happened in booming metropolis and mecca of style that is Portland, Maine. There is a woman at Akari who does a great job every time, and she has just the right haircutter demeanor, chatty, but allows plenty of silent moments for relaxation.

However, it’s been too long since my last cut (only because it’s been too long since I’ve been home). So I bit the bullet and found a new stylist in this fair city, where the wonky helmet head continues to populate the streets with surprising frequency. The results of yesterday’s appointment are not particularly noteworthy, but I’ll be going back…for the head massage.

At first, the stylist spent so much time brushing out my tangled mess, fluffing it, then brushing it again, that I thought he was going to start cutting it without a wash (horrors)! It was to my great relief when he led me to the head sinks in the back of the salon. And there the magic happened. The temperature was just right, the pressure of the water just strong enough, and as the hairdresser applied the shampoo, working it into a lather around the edges of my face and underneath my skull, I got tingles down my spine. Herbal Essences may not do it for me, but this hairdresser sure new how to tickle the tendrils. If only it felt that every morning. Sigh.