(frogandcrowns.tumblr.com)
The entire place is underground. I've walked past it millions of times, always curious but never daring to go in. I'd heard good things: that it's one of the cheapest haircuts in New York, that everyone there has a lot of character, etc. After examining my split ends and deciding enough was enough, I finally mustered up the courage to go down those stairs into the unknown.
What a world! It's huge! A labyrinth of mirrors and vanity cabinets. Each stylist (and there's probably at least thirty or forty of them) has personalized his or her own station. Today I got my hair cut by Rosa, whose area was painted a bright flamingo pink. Next to us was Dominick, who must only cut guys' hair, as his entire area was plastered with magazine cutouts of Justin Bieber, Zac Efron, Leonardo DiCaprio, and other male celebs with iconic hairstyles. That or Dominick has some serious crushes on these youngsters.
As I sat in the chair, a curtain of hair obstructing my view of all the action, I listened to the sounds of the business surrounding me. Dominick, your typical Brooklyn born-and-raised Italian guy, cracking jokes with whoever was getting buzzed in his chair. The Doobie Brothers warbling in the background. Sounds of blowdryers, female laughter, spray bottles. I was filled with a random burst of joy at how human this all was.
Seriously, though, can you imagine robots cutting hair in the future? (Maybe such a thing already exists, I don't know). I, for one, think that would be a disaster. Humans can listen and adjust. And say there was a technical glitch... Besides, there's something oddly comforting in this anonymous closeness.
Those were the thoughts running through my head, which of course dissipated as soon as Rosa gave a harder-than-necessary yank that brought tears to my eyes. No tip for you! I thought to myself. But tip her I did. And back again I'll go.
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