” Haircut,” by Nadine Darling

I got the classic Mia Farrow “Rosemary’s Baby” haircut for my 35th birthday, at Vidal Sassoon in Boston. It was planned meticulously; I called the salon and asked for my hair to be cut by the director, a man named named Jacques. He had the most experience, they said, but he was also the most expensive. I assured them that that was fine. My mother was paying.

After donning my silky robe and having my hair washed by a tiny woman with several facial piercings and stomping Doc Martens, Jacques stood behind my chair and brushed my wet hair out with his fingers. His age seemed impossible to know. He had some kind of accent- not really French, but something. Chains that hung from his leather pants clinked like silverware with the slightest movement. We looked at me in the mirror. He asked me what I wanted and I told him. He was not surprised, but he smiled, his hands still in my hair. Continue reading →