To the Woman who Cut my Daughter's Hair:

You blew it. For weeks, she had been looking forward to that haircut. A little pampering, a chance to perk up and feel pretty, it was to be a big day out. She has very long hair and haircuts are rare treats. She looked at hundreds of pictures, pondering this possiblity or that. You were one of several people we considered to undertake the task. Since you had done a darling job with Katie's hair a couple of years ago and you are close by and affordable, we decided to take a chance.

From the moment we arrived, it was the wrong decision. You began by telling her all about what was wrong with her hair--her thick, healthy, lovely hair. A half dozen of those bottles of hair products and all would be well you assured me, as you clicked your tongue and told her how really terrible her current hair was. Once we had duly  noted your "recommendations," you moved on to highlighting. Honeyed brown hair is terribly dull it seems. She "needs" highlights. Be so much more beautiful with highlights. Maybe you missed the look on her face, that girl in the chair who came in with every expectation of leaving feeling good about her appearance. You--in your effort to make a sale--you were relentless in your mission to make her feel in need of fixing. After fully decimating her self-image, you moved on to me. I need highlights. too. To cover the gray. And a haircut. And a flat iron.

I'll pass.


We left your shop with one very good haircut.

We will not return.