Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
My hair consultation apparently wasn’t only with Bernard and Linn. Ziggy was standing there between them when I pushed open the restroom door and he looked me up and down critically. Well, all three of them sort of stared at me but it was Ziggy in particular I noticed. Not the most comfortable feeling.
“Hey guys,” I piped. “My turn, right?”
Bernard waved me closer and gestured to a high stool in front of a mirror and sink like it was a throne. “Can’t believe your red extensions have held up since June,” he said, picking up some of my hair and letting it fall gradually. “Amazing.”
“Well, more than half of them are gone.” I had to look at the three of them in the mirror as they gathered around me.
“The main color accent for the production will be electric blue,” Linn said. She was in full Aesthetician mode. “So if we are to do anything with color, that would be appropriate.”
“I think blue’s one of the colors Daron approves of,” Ziggy said. “Am I right?”
“Yeah, blue’s fine,” I said cautiously, trying not to commit to anything too outrageous. “In small doses.”
“Just an accent color,” Linn said, sounding annoyed.
“Well, we could do the same sort of thing as before,” Bernard said, finger-combing my hair, “but with electric blue extensions instead of red.”
“He needs some shaping as well,” Linn declared. “And some body.”
Bernard made a noise of agreement and began laying out comb and scissors and other implements of destruction.
“But not too short,” I made myself say.
Ziggy leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Not too short, dear one.” He then gave what I can only call a conspiratorial glare to the other two, and left.
Linn watched Bernard carefully pick red extensions out of my hair for a little while, then she left also.
Bernard picked up the spray bottle and clucked his tongue. “Those two. You might want to take your shirt off for this so you’re not itching all day.”
I pulled my T-shirt off and he hung it over the corner of the mirror. Then he spritzed my head. I tried not to cringe too visibly under the cold spray.
I don’t know how to describe how he cut my hair exactly. He combed it all out and trimmed the ends, but then he did a thing where he snipped here and there. At the end he gave me a new set of electric blue extensions just like before, thin ribbons of color that hid in my hair until I moved my head.
I thought we were done then, but no, he plugged in a blow dryer and blew my hair out. This time I cringed under the noise and the heat. Next time, I promised myself, I’ll insist on getting my ear plugs.
Linn came back in during the blow-drying. In the mirror I was looking uncomfortably close to poodle-haired for my taste, but then Bernard sprayed me with something else and plucked at my hair with his fingers. When he was done it was a bit less fluffy and I liked it better. In fact I am sure most people would not describe the end result as fluffy at all, but compared to my usual it was.
“Nicely volumized,” Linn called it. “Now, to discuss your makeup.”
“Oh, goody,” I said aloud.
She gave me a sharp look. Bernard made himself scarce. “What is this objection? You’re wearing makeup in the photos.”
“I’m wearing eyeliner.”
“You are aware that eyeliner is makeup, are you not?”
“Yes, Linn. I’m just–”
“No arguments. I don’t have time for a problem child right now.” She held up an eyeliner pencil between us like a dagger. “You usually put it on yourself?”
“Ziggy usually puts it on me.”
She made a disapproving noise. “Don’t complicate things. Everything is already going to be difficult enough.”
“I have no idea what you’re–”
“Shush. Sit still.”
I shushed and then I didn’t dare move while she lined my eyes and did some other things I didn’t expect. When she was finished there was a kind of blue stripe across my face like the shadow of wraparound shades. Apparently she didn’t like that, though, as she then scrubbed it off with wet cloths and tried again, this time creating a blue triangle around one eye. That also did not meet her approval and she wiped it clean again.
“Hmmm. The shape of your face.”
I didn’t dare say anything to her at that point. She didn’t finish the sentence or explain what was bothering her about the shape of my face.
Finally, she gave up. “You can go.” I went to stand up off the stool, but then she stopped me again. “Ziggy is very fragile. You know that, do you not?”
Her voice was low, her eyes intense. “You think you’re the golden boy, but you have to remember. Ziggy is the golden goose for all of us. He is a treasure. You are a hammer.”
She was not a tall woman, remember, and I was on a high wooden stool. It was relatively easy for her to grab my balls. Okay, she actually grabbed my thigh but her message was clear. “Bang him too hard and you’ll shatter him.”
Then she let go and I got out of there before she could change her mind again.
(I don’t know why this song charted again in 1991, but it did. Anyone know? -d)