Miracles are all around us -- even at the hair salon

Sue Clark

My cosmetologist looked offended when I entered Pazazz hair salon on

Saturday. I thought it was because of my lack of a gift.

“I had to make a split-second decision whether to bring you a

bottle of wine for Christmas or get here on time,” I said.

“Got out of that one,” I thought.

“Believe me, being on time is the best gift,” she said.

Traci had a lot of holiday clients, all of whom wanted cuts and

color for holiday parties. She sat me down in the salon chair and

checked my roots. She still looked irritated.

Maybe she felt I had gone too long without a touch-up.

“James told me it was fine until this week,” I said.

James Olson is the tallest boy at my school, thus able to assess

my color job for me every few weeks (whether I want him to). His

aesthetic sense is quite refined for a member of the basketball team.

He isn’t afraid to make a tough call.

“Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” began to blast through the

salon. The cosmetologist looked up at one of the speakers and

scowled. “I’ve been listening to this Christmas tape for the last

week. It’s driving me nuts,” she said.

“I can understand you’re being sick of that one,” I replied.

I was getting tired of it myself. The malls, the radio, everywhere

I’d been lately had been belting out this Brenda Lee classic until I

wanted to smack her.

Traci brandished the little brush she used to paint away my gray.

“I’ll tell you what comes next. I have the whole horrible thing

memorized.”

“OK,” I said in the tone one uses to gentle a horse. She would

soon have scissors in her hand, and as a trained counselor, I needed

to be skilled enough to calm her down.

Before she could speak, a new song started. “I’ll h-h-have a

b-b-blue Christmas without you,” a squeaky voice trilled.

“What the heck is that?” I thought I had heard every holiday song

ever written. “Is there something wrong with the CD?”

“Of course there’s something wrong with it! You’re listening to

Porky Pig singing ‘Blue Christmas.’”

I couldn’t help laughing, although she had started to trim my

hair. Never get a cosmetologist upset when she is holding scissors.

Foolishly, I continued to giggle.

“Porky Pig? Singing ‘Blue Christmas’? They couldn’t use Elvis?” I

tried to stop laughing, but continued to laugh.

She tilted my head so it was straight. “Wait until you hear the

next one.”

The room suddenly filled with the yowls of a cat chorus mewing

“Jingle Bells.”

“What kind of CD is this?” I asked. “One from the farm?” I was

still trying to stop laughing.

“It’s some random collection,” she said as she snipped viciously

at an errant curl. “Whoever put it together was obviously crazy, and

I have to listen to it all day long.”

“What kind of music do you like?” I asked. I was still trying to

focus her.

“You may not have heard of it,” she replied tactfully. “It pretty

modern. It’s called ‘emo.’”

“So where do you go to hear this emu?” I asked. I always attempt

to show her how hip I am.

“Not emu. It’s ‘emo.’” Then even

Traci started laughing. She was attempting to explain that type of

music when out of the blue, Frank Sinatra began warbling “I’m leavin’

today; I’m longin’ to go ....”

By this time, we didn’t even question why “New York, New York” was

playing on a Christmas CD. It was just such a relief. As Frank segued

into “The Lady is a Tramp,” I started belting out the lyrics,

something I have dreamed of doing in a random place.

I had always imagined it would be Diedrich’s Coffee or the Coffee

Bean & Tea Leaf, but here I was in Pazazz. In the movies, the rest of

the bystanders all miraculously knew the lyrics and joined in. Would

anyone be dorky enough to do this?

Yes! A woman in the next chair getting a weave began to sing with

me. Her colorist hummed along, grinning. And, wonder of wonders, a

self-assured teenager went so far as to wave her smock-covered arms

to the beat.

Pazazz suddenly became infused with holiday warmth. I felt like we

were in a film. Those that weren’t singing were laughing (at us, but

who cared?) The bizarre CD no longer seemed annoying.

My roots were blond again, and both sides of my hair were exactly

one inch shorter, and not uneven. Traci also agreed to give me the

moral support to grow out my bangs.

“Call me when you feel like cutting them, and I’ll talk you out of

it,” she said.

It was a holiday miracle, and one of many that happen daily in

Newport-Mesa. You just have to look for them.

Happy holidays.

* SUE CLARK is a Newport Beach resident and a high school guidance

counselor at Creekside High School in Irvine.