Re-post #4 - My Dear Ugly Betty

(posted May 22, 2009)

Today my hair is orange-copper. Let me tell you why. Uh, wait. No. Let me tell you how.

I haven't had my hair done since I lived in Seattle. I finally decided that I needed some root control and a haircut more than I needed a pedicure. Which just goes to show how bad my hair was.

They have an Aveda Academy Salon here. If you go to it instead of the main salon, you pay 50% less and since it's under the instruction of master stylists, I figured it was the best route to go to get a good haircut for the price. The downside to this endeavor is that it isn't an actual master stylist cutting your hair, but rather a student, and it takes a very long time. For a cut and color we're talking 3-4 hours. Plan ahead.

Okay, so I go in to my appointment. Usually how it works (in my infinite hair salon experience) is you sit down, explain what you desire and they magically come up with a plan using their own genius and experience. I can say, "I want a razor cut on the edge and I would like some chunky auburn highlights." And then they do it. Usually.

However, if you know me, you also know my bad hair experiences. I have been known to throw down hundreds of dollars for pink, black, and way too blond hair (unintentionally). I am pretty sure I have looked like every member of the Osborn family at some point. I have cried, and demanded a re-do, and suffered through countless hours of glares from stylists who were shocked I didn't like the masterpiece on my head. But it's my head, right? I have head rights. Which brings this story to an interesting twist.

In this case, my stylist was very young and resembled Ugly Betty. Bless her heart. For a moment I thought she would just do my shampoo...until she led me to sit down in her chair. I mentioned something about my husband and she exclaimed, "You're married? Wow. How old are you? You look 19." My Dear Ugly Betty! I love you and am no longer very afraid.

Describing my hair color wants to her should have given me a clue as to what was about to transpire. She asked me to take a look at her portfolio to see if that gave me any ideas. I gladly accepted as she handed me her...scrapbook? The front was bedazzled. No joke. Inside was magazine cutouts of celebrity hairstyles. An entire 3 pages to be exact. All. Uhm. Not the look I was going for. Still, my heart went out to this little diva. Something about her mild manners should have warned me to run, but instead my heart filled with compassion decided to stay in her chair.

I thought I described in detail what I wanted. "Not like this one. or this one. and definitely not like this one."

As she foiled my hair I found out a bit about her, which unfortunately made my love for My Dear Ugly Betty to grow. She loved going to school here because "they teach you that you can really be all you can be". Let me emphasize direct quote. Her family works in the fields. She did too -- but she got pregnant, got married, and dropped out of school. Then this opportunity came and she took it! Unfortunately, her father is not supportive. But he's old and old-fashioned. He's 40. And nothing was going to stop her hair-cutting triumph.

My Dear Ugly Betty's story was so tragic that when she unveiled her masterpiece on my head I couldn't say much. It was the same. No change. She was shy and embarrassed for getting the formula wrong. I sat while she and her master stylist teacher worked some new foils through my hair as quickly as they could and watched another hour slide by. No big deal.

As she washed my hair she said, "yes..these are definitely showing now. Love the orange."
WHAT??

I said, "My Dear Ugly Betty, note to self: do not tell clients their hair is orange. Orange is never a good word to use."

"oh..uhmm..sorry..copper. I love the copper," she said.

She finished the blow-dry quickly and turned me around to see. What did I think?

"Well, uhm... I'll have to get use to it, but it's nice. Thank you." And I happily said farewell and good luck to My Dear Ugly Betty.

I figured I could pull my orange hair off. I am 19 after all.