Haircut

I’m one of those rare individuals who will cut their own hair. I don’t know too many people that will take shears to their hair, which is probably a good thing. Hair is our greatest accessory, so taking full responsibility for its look is wisely, left to professionals. And yes, that includes me.

I don’t remember when I foolishly thought I had enough skill to chop off a few locks, or where I found the bravery. I must have looked in the mirror, out of sheer desperation, and gingerly nipped off a teensy bit here and there. How that translated into my own hair design over the years is beyond me.

Every now and then, I was asked by family and friends to cut their hair. My grandmother loved it when I would cut her hair – and she was very particular. I put all grandmothers into two camps. The sweet-gentle-bake-cookies-few-extra-pounds-hugging-kind, which I was lucky enough to have one of (my Nana), and the modern-working-woman-nails-always-done-kiss-on-the-cheek-kind (my grandmother). Their names even give it away. Nana was security and warmth and lots of love. Grandmother was elegant and active and cool. She wore Calvin Klein jeans! And Keds!

As my grandmother aged, and was stricken with cancer, she didn’t feel well enough to have her hair styled at her salon. So she asked me to cut her hair! Me! I felt SO honored, and freaking terrified! As my grandmother wasn’t the huggy-lovey-dovey type, I knew if I screwed up, she would haughtily let me know. However, I did well enough and it became a part of our visits.

I lived in Portland, Oregon for a little over eight years and absolutely LOVED it! It took me a long time to find the right stylist. Actually, it took me years! I ended up cutting my own hair, for years. I didn’t trust anyone and I didn’t think I was doing too bad. Then, I met Wendy. Wendy became my Hairy Godmother.

Wendy and I worked together and she was all about hair and products. She was always doing something cute with her hair – long, straight, short, curly and in between. Her mother had been a stylist, so Wendy was always trying out different products for different effects. She was so hair confident.

Wendy would take me into wholesale shops for hair products, accessories and make up. It was a big, wide world out there and she was going to show it to me. She told me straight up, I needed help. Yes, I was doing a pretty good job, but someone else could do much better. She made a few suggestions, waved her magic wand and next thing I knew, I had a stylist.

Well, fast forward a few years, and here I am, living in another new city, faced with the same trust dilemma and lack of my Hairy Godmother. And this time, it’s exacerbated by a language barrier. So, I started cutting my own hair. Let’s just say the awkward grow out phase wasn’t growing out. It didn’t matter if I wrapped my head in a scarf! Each and every day became awkward.

I totally copped out, went online and found Noi, a salon where the owners and stylists speak English. Come to find out, many of the English-speaking community who live in Rome, trust Noi with their greatest accessory. And, Noi is located in Piazza del Popolo, which is in my backyard. Thanks to Massimo, from Napoli, I’m sporting a new Italian ‘do and I like it.