The Haircut Store

This is how I remember it. I was 4 or 5 and I decided I wanted a pixie haircut. My mom took me to her beauty parlor (because that's what they were called) and I emerged with a prematurely fashionable boy cut. I remember standing up in the backseat to look at myself in the rear view mirror and feeling a combination of regret and potential.

Now I'm not sure if this is actually how or when it happened because I seem to remember having long hair in first grade. But I suppose that was the first of a lifetime of short hairstyles.

So fast forward to present day. I was reading a blog the other day on children's photography and saw the most precious haircut on a little girl of 7 or 8. And like I often do, I acted prematurely. I called my stylist Victor and made an appointment for Abby. No Cool Cuts For Kids. This is a cut for a stylist.

And then I showed the photo to Bryon. "Absolutely not," he said. "Boy hair. I like her hair now." And it's true. She is working a sweet little flapper bob.

But Abby was very excited about going to the haircut store so we kept our appointment at the salon (today's beauty parlor).

The result?