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Pretty much anybody who’s had more than two beers with me has heard about my hair lady.
I was initially drawn into her City Heights shop while bicycling down the Boulevard one hot summer day about two years ago.
Large green and red characters in the window advertised “Haircut — $6.95."
Twenty minutes later, my chipper Vietnamese stylist was twirling me around in the barber chair, exclaiming in her tinny voice, “Ooh! You look so good! You get all the girls now!”
Her enthusiasm resonated with my proud carnal instincts, and I knew then that I would happily yield the approximate cost of a lobster burrito simply to absorb her praises on a regular basis in the future.
Everything was going fantastically until yesterday when, in a rush, I poked into an Uptown salon for a snip.
“Make it like this, but shorter,” I said, gesturing at my tangled mane.
Forty-five minutes and a dollop of product later, I couldn’t recognize the man in the mirror.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been rocking the same no-frills combover for over a decade.
Maybe the $20 charge inspired my contempt.
Or maybe I’m just not the come-what-may modern Whateverist I inwardly congratulate myself on being and am ultimately resistant to change, after all.
Whatever the case, my new mop, a close buzz cut with a little poof thing on top, aroused great shame within me.
I pulled up my Unabomber hoodie, dawned aviators, and made my discreet passage home.
Later, I met up with my friend Andrea, who, with a face that told of stifled laughter and a vague sympathy, echoed my Saigon salonista’s exclamations like a curse:
“You’re going to get all the creepy scenester girls,” she said, outlining a narrow figure with her hands and then drawing two fingers to her lips as if to say ‘And, ya know, smoking all the time.’
“You look like you should be holding a keytar.”
As luck would have it, Andrea works at the Village Hat Shop warehouse on India Street, where headpieces go for up to 70% off tomorrow from 9 to 4 and the first 50 people in the door get a free hat.
Crazy Wheel, Two for the Road, and Epic Eatz food trucks bring the grub.
In addition to the Mission Hills warehouse, which supplies over 150,000 styles via VillageHatShop.com, the shop has locations in Hillcrest, Seaport Village, Long Beach, and Old Sacramento.
So, go ahead. You look so good. You get all the girls now.
P.S. I've since come to terms with my hair and now see that it was my fault for being a come-as-it-may Whateverist in the first place and saying, "yeah, sure," when the barber asked if I wanted a "fade," which is not a complimentary sports drink cocktail, after all.
The Village Hat Shop - 3443 India Street
Pretty much anybody who’s had more than two beers with me has heard about my hair lady.
I was initially drawn into her City Heights shop while bicycling down the Boulevard one hot summer day about two years ago.
Large green and red characters in the window advertised “Haircut — $6.95."
Twenty minutes later, my chipper Vietnamese stylist was twirling me around in the barber chair, exclaiming in her tinny voice, “Ooh! You look so good! You get all the girls now!”
Her enthusiasm resonated with my proud carnal instincts, and I knew then that I would happily yield the approximate cost of a lobster burrito simply to absorb her praises on a regular basis in the future.
Everything was going fantastically until yesterday when, in a rush, I poked into an Uptown salon for a snip.
“Make it like this, but shorter,” I said, gesturing at my tangled mane.
Forty-five minutes and a dollop of product later, I couldn’t recognize the man in the mirror.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been rocking the same no-frills combover for over a decade.
Maybe the $20 charge inspired my contempt.
Or maybe I’m just not the come-what-may modern Whateverist I inwardly congratulate myself on being and am ultimately resistant to change, after all.
Whatever the case, my new mop, a close buzz cut with a little poof thing on top, aroused great shame within me.
I pulled up my Unabomber hoodie, dawned aviators, and made my discreet passage home.
Later, I met up with my friend Andrea, who, with a face that told of stifled laughter and a vague sympathy, echoed my Saigon salonista’s exclamations like a curse:
“You’re going to get all the creepy scenester girls,” she said, outlining a narrow figure with her hands and then drawing two fingers to her lips as if to say ‘And, ya know, smoking all the time.’
“You look like you should be holding a keytar.”
As luck would have it, Andrea works at the Village Hat Shop warehouse on India Street, where headpieces go for up to 70% off tomorrow from 9 to 4 and the first 50 people in the door get a free hat.
Crazy Wheel, Two for the Road, and Epic Eatz food trucks bring the grub.
In addition to the Mission Hills warehouse, which supplies over 150,000 styles via VillageHatShop.com, the shop has locations in Hillcrest, Seaport Village, Long Beach, and Old Sacramento.
So, go ahead. You look so good. You get all the girls now.
P.S. I've since come to terms with my hair and now see that it was my fault for being a come-as-it-may Whateverist in the first place and saying, "yeah, sure," when the barber asked if I wanted a "fade," which is not a complimentary sports drink cocktail, after all.
The Village Hat Shop - 3443 India Street