Yesterday I went to this really awesome salon, Alice Hair, on 2nd and 70th. My stylist color corrected my hair perfectly, they use Bumble and Bumble products (my favorite), and they gave me wine. A trifecta of happiness, truly. While there a couple amusing things happened:
First, a very large woman walked in, blackberry in one hand, suitcase in the other and immediately started chatting about her weekend (her weekend that she spent working 20 hours!) and how she needed to get lipo. This lead to discussions about Care Bears and their tummys. Hilar.
Second, all the stylists are from Ireland and trash talk one another vs. oohing and aahing over the fabulousness of their customers. This delighted me to no end - I hate fake fawning. I love fake trash talk.
The funniest part of my story however is not that the large queen of plastic surgery or the Care Bear Stare. The funniest part of my night was when Hazel, my stylist, brought me my second glass of white and said, "Here you go, Kirsten."
...and I thought that my days of being mistaken for Kirsten Rat-Teeth Dunst were over. Woe is me. Ah well, at least my hair looks kick ass. Seriously.
Kick. Ass.
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