Hair and There
Jan. 13th, 2007 12:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogTook time for a haircut last night, still, fortunately, a necessary occurrence about every month. While my mane has always grown in the same places (everywhere) and at about the same speed (fast), my strategies for dealing with it have fallen into four eras (hairas? Why do hair shops always go for the cutesiest of names?).
* Precambrian, or, where Ray's parents made him go. This period covers roughly a third of my life, with beginnings at the traditional Barbasol-and-barberpole place on Newbridge Avenue where I got a lollypop if I didn't cry (actually, not letting me look in the mirror would have been more effective), to an entourage of places, most run by some guy named Harry, where we'd always argue if I could use the Pennysaver coupon and, if I could, whether my do was over the limit for Harry's "extra long hair" charge.
* Paleozoic, or, the era of civil disobedience. The first seven years out of the house were largely spent outside the barbershop, and I have pictures to prove it. There were, at most, two places in Ithaca and Buffalo I can remember ever setting foot in (the one here long defunct). I specifically remember avoiding one possible cutter in downtown Ithaca named "Benny's Barber Shop" because I remembered the punch line to a bad old joke about a place by that name, which ended in "A Benny shaved is a Benny urned." Most times when the hair got totally uncontrollable, my sister would step in and unleash her hairstylist boyfriend on me, whether in his shop or at the dining room table. Somehow I survived.
* Mesozoic, or, actually having a joint where We Cut Heads. When my sudden arrival as a grownup required a more regular schedule, I tried a few places in Rochester before finally settling at Salvatore's. Sal was (still is- he's nearing retirement but he still has a chair up the street from his old shop) a nice guy and treated me and my hair well for many years. My only mistake all those times was making an appointment once during the 1994 World Cup final between Italy and Brazil; Sal got to the back of my head during the penalty kicks, and I think there may have been five abrupt clips in the hairline from when each goal went in.
*Niogene, or, where we is now. After moving here after that summer, I returned a few times to Sal's shop, but have since settled into a routine of various Supercuts shops. Shut up; they get me in fast, are generally personable and professional, and there are bunches to choose from all around here.
Including the closest, which I went to last night, and therein hangs one more tale.
----
The Main-Union plaza has always been anchored by a second-tier supermarket (once a Bells, but now run by a cousin of the Syracuse P&C chain, which we called Piss'n'Crap back in the day), with a small row of storefronts which, except for the Supercuts, has never held a tenant for very long. Liquor stores, shoe stores, fitness places all keep coming, and almost as quickly going. The one other tenant which seemed to have "made it," though, was our most regular Chinese place.
There was always a crowd of people picking up takeout. Prices were reasonable without being so cheap you worried about your health. Service was quick, and the counter girl spoke enough English to get the order right. Last night, I saw it had closed. I asked my stylist if he knew about it. He knew plenty.
Despite all that business, and little in the way of overhead that I could ever see, these guys had managed not to pay rent for close to 18 months. The landlord finally gave them until Thanksgiving to catch it up and, failing that, put them out in early December.
A few weeks later, the landlord arrived at the back of the hair salon, wondering if they might have a duplicate key to the restaurant. A locksmith was called, and quickly thereafter the EPA. They'd removed most of their perishables, but perishability is relative, and most of what they did leave was starting to create an indoor brownfield.
The landlord asked if he could use the salon's dumpster. One whiff of the toxins later, the hair salon declined.
And an hour later, it was still pretty disgusting.
Barum bum.
* Precambrian, or, where Ray's parents made him go. This period covers roughly a third of my life, with beginnings at the traditional Barbasol-and-barberpole place on Newbridge Avenue where I got a lollypop if I didn't cry (actually, not letting me look in the mirror would have been more effective), to an entourage of places, most run by some guy named Harry, where we'd always argue if I could use the Pennysaver coupon and, if I could, whether my do was over the limit for Harry's "extra long hair" charge.
* Paleozoic, or, the era of civil disobedience. The first seven years out of the house were largely spent outside the barbershop, and I have pictures to prove it. There were, at most, two places in Ithaca and Buffalo I can remember ever setting foot in (the one here long defunct). I specifically remember avoiding one possible cutter in downtown Ithaca named "Benny's Barber Shop" because I remembered the punch line to a bad old joke about a place by that name, which ended in "A Benny shaved is a Benny urned." Most times when the hair got totally uncontrollable, my sister would step in and unleash her hairstylist boyfriend on me, whether in his shop or at the dining room table. Somehow I survived.
* Mesozoic, or, actually having a joint where We Cut Heads. When my sudden arrival as a grownup required a more regular schedule, I tried a few places in Rochester before finally settling at Salvatore's. Sal was (still is- he's nearing retirement but he still has a chair up the street from his old shop) a nice guy and treated me and my hair well for many years. My only mistake all those times was making an appointment once during the 1994 World Cup final between Italy and Brazil; Sal got to the back of my head during the penalty kicks, and I think there may have been five abrupt clips in the hairline from when each goal went in.
*Niogene, or, where we is now. After moving here after that summer, I returned a few times to Sal's shop, but have since settled into a routine of various Supercuts shops. Shut up; they get me in fast, are generally personable and professional, and there are bunches to choose from all around here.
Including the closest, which I went to last night, and therein hangs one more tale.
----
The Main-Union plaza has always been anchored by a second-tier supermarket (once a Bells, but now run by a cousin of the Syracuse P&C chain, which we called Piss'n'Crap back in the day), with a small row of storefronts which, except for the Supercuts, has never held a tenant for very long. Liquor stores, shoe stores, fitness places all keep coming, and almost as quickly going. The one other tenant which seemed to have "made it," though, was our most regular Chinese place.
There was always a crowd of people picking up takeout. Prices were reasonable without being so cheap you worried about your health. Service was quick, and the counter girl spoke enough English to get the order right. Last night, I saw it had closed. I asked my stylist if he knew about it. He knew plenty.
Despite all that business, and little in the way of overhead that I could ever see, these guys had managed not to pay rent for close to 18 months. The landlord finally gave them until Thanksgiving to catch it up and, failing that, put them out in early December.
A few weeks later, the landlord arrived at the back of the hair salon, wondering if they might have a duplicate key to the restaurant. A locksmith was called, and quickly thereafter the EPA. They'd removed most of their perishables, but perishability is relative, and most of what they did leave was starting to create an indoor brownfield.
The landlord asked if he could use the salon's dumpster. One whiff of the toxins later, the hair salon declined.
And an hour later, it was still pretty disgusting.
Barum bum.
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no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 07:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:03 pm (UTC)Careful what you wish for:
Date: 2007-01-13 10:50 pm (UTC)This is about as cleaned up as I got back then: college graduation, May 1981
That's my late sister with me, in front of Uris Library at Cornell. I think I had more hair climbing on me back then than the building hadivy.
Re: Careful what you wish for:
Date: 2007-01-14 09:44 pm (UTC)Re: Careful what you wish for:
Date: 2007-01-14 09:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:25 pm (UTC)As for the Chinese place, yuck with a side of eeewww.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-14 09:49 pm (UTC)