I had my appointment Friday afternoon.
Marcus, it turns out, is a hair god.
It was in the way he moved, holding the scissors like a paintbrush and dancing around my head, snipping here, there, erratically, ecstatically, until the final oeuvre emerged.
It was in the story about how he got into hairstyling: As a kid, he couldn't keep his hands off scissors and kept cutting his family members's hair -- well.
But it was clearest when I left the salon and had a total catwalk moment.
I also think he's a good employer, or at least better than I initially thought. He hired back that receptionist, who thanked me before I left and explained it had been her third week on the job. He chastised another employee for not checking with him about something (regarding a client's hair color). He was tough and exacting. But that's because he seems to pursue excellence in every aspect of his business.
When I asked him what he likes most about cutting hair, he replied, "The people. I like to see their reactions, their happy faces as they walk out the door."
The real test of a cut is how it looks two weeks, and two months later, but so far, this Tuesday evening, I'm still smiling.
PS: For K, here's a picture -- I asked ;) someone to snap me from behind on the walk back to my car.
