For a little adventure, just to see what would happen, I had my hair cut in Venice. I speak no Italian and the barber and his assistant (Carla) spoke no English, but I was up for the storytelling.
Mind you, it had been about two years since I had been to a good stylist who knows what to do with my hair; they are very difficult to find in Boise, Idaho. I really needed to get a haircut, as evidenced by the barber who held the mange of my split ends and frowned. Waving it like a horses’s tail, he said “neccesario,” as in it all had to go.
So about 7 inches did.
After about a minute of sign language and me saying "sure, whatever," it was done. Carla started cutting. No hairwashing, no spritzing the strands down, just cutting--"round not straight." Okay.
The next day I realized that the left side is about two inches shorter than the right side. Okay. I should really learn a few words of Italian.
No comments:
Post a Comment