Montchan and I were so damn glad to have finally found each other, and we were both so tired from our flights and adventures that we chose to take a taxi to our next destination: our hair appointment in Paris which we hoped wasn’t lost because we were two hours late. Her luggage had not arrived in Paris with her, so she was bummed about that. We got dropped off and she found the salon by remembering the area from the last time she had been there (and by asking some nice guys in a grocery store where they thought it might be), and she went inside to see if they could fit us in while I stood outside with my three pieces of luggage.
Three pieces of luggage, you ask? Why, yes. I had a suitcase type carry-on, a suitcase for my clothes, and a suitcase containing items Taiko Tari and Montchan had requested from the US, such as a queen-sized buckwheat pillow, a two-man tent, a large box of Bounce fabric softener sheets, 17 pairs of Victoria’s Secret undies, and some dental floss. It felt crazy having that much luggage for four and a half days, and it was such a pain lugging it down the beautiful streets of Paris, and into the tiny salon once they said we could have our hair done even though we had missed our appointments. They were so kind.
Montchan having her hair cut by Steve
I admit I was embarrassed by my hair being so nappy…I had flown for what felt like days and felt all greasy and gross. My stylist, whose name is Warren, washed my hair while Montchan had hers washed too, and then I was sitting in a chair in front of the mirror, trying to tell him what I’d like, but I think I was talking too fast so in the end I simply said my hair was limp, and I needed more body. He said in a very charming accent “Body? More body?” only his accent made the word body sound like “Bow day.” In the end, I said I trust him to make me beautiful and give my hair body. He began to cut.in silence while Montchan and I occasionally talked during our cuts. We enjoyed the look of the place: wood floors, pink walls, ceiling painted in metallic gold, stylish and fabulous gay guys cutting our hair, two dogs walking around underfoot, and a fixture on the wall that is best shown rather than described:
I know I will NEVER find one of these in Montana, even though I’ve seen thousands of them hanging here. I love it.
Warren, my stylist
My hair was finished first, and Warren had done the impossible: he had given my hair body! I loved it. They allowed us to take pictures, and we gave them our blog addresses so they could see themselves on our blogs. Warren plans someday in the next five years to head to Miami and live and work. He’ll succeed wherever he goes, he’s great! His was the best haircut I've ever had.
Now if only I could figure out how to get back there every three months to have my hair done...