Do you remember going to the hair salon as a child?
The buzz of girl talk and hairspray filled the air with a soft haze of enchantment. When It was my turn, I would climb into my stylist’s chair and watch the mirror closely as she worked her magic.
Her art was time-consuming but worth every minute. When she was done with her masterpiece, she’d pass the hand mirror to me for a closer look. My eyes would light up at the sight of the finished product but my daze would soon after be broken by a roll of thunder.