6 -TV FICTION CLASSICS

"Naturally curly?" Ann smiled, "Mark's hair is like his mother's...straight as a poker!"

"You mean?" Alan's mother said with raised eyebrows toward Ann.

"That's right, I look after Mark's hair as well as his mothers. In fact, I have several of my client's long-haired sons as regular clients. Hairdressers know how to take care of long hair. Alan is right, barbers are trained to cut hair short, so that's what they do."

"Right on!" Alan said with a smug smile. His mother still with that knowing smile on her face said to her son.

"Does that mean you'd let Ann fix that mop of yours a little too?"

"Uh...well," Alan hemmed, being caught a little off guard. He did like the hairstyle that Mark had. "Did you really style his hair?" He asked turning to Ann again.

"As a matter of fact, that photo was taken right after I finished doing their hair. It's taken in my living room. They were going to a Christmas party that day.'

"Well, I wouldn't mind having hair like him." Alan conceded. "But my hair's not wavy like that."

"Is that so, well want to bet that I can make your's look as good as Mark's?"

Alan smiled, "What do we bet?"

"If I fail, it's on the house. If I win, maybe you'll consider using my services as a regular customer. I can set up a standing appointment at the same time as your mothers."

Alan grinned, his mother seemed to be holding her tongue, anticipating that finally she will have her way. . .his hair needed something. What a strange stroke of luck that she had Alan accompany her to this appointment.

"OK...you're on," Alan replied finally. Mark's picture did give him some confidence in Ann's abilities. That was the kind of look he had been after from the start. It looked a lot like Jim Dorison's, the lead singer of the group, the Windows.

Alan's close observations in the mirror these days didn't see any way that his mane would turn into that. . .but finally he had hope. "Finally!" Alan's mom joked as she made an upward motion with her hands to the heavens.

"Well then, come on down and we'll get started," Ann said as she led the way down the staircase to her hairdressing room.

Alan was taken aback somewhat by the setup. The fairly large room was very professionally designed and equipped. Two small couches were up against one wall with a small coffee table in between them. The table had a pile of hairstyle and fashion magazines for the waiting customer's enjoyment.

On another wall, was a large mirror flanked by a salon shampoo sink and chair. In front of the mirror was a professional beauty salon

HAIR TODAY, GOWN TOMORROW -7 stylist chair. Along the other wall were two salon hair dryers also separated by a small table with reading material on it. Along the mirror, Alan saw various trays of pins and clips, some towels, various combs, brushes and spray bottles. Beside the styling chair, a small cart on wheels with several tiers of trays. He couldn't see what was inside them however. Ann brought Alan out of his perusal of the

room.

"Have a seat Alan. How I'll work this is that I'll start with your mom, get her perm rolled and processing, then I'll shampoo you and trim up a few hairs here and there. Then I'll have to get back to your mother's perm before I can get you set and under the dryer, OK?" "Uh, sure, ," Alan replied not really understanding what the 'perm' was nor why he would have to sit under a dryer.

He made himself comfortable in one of the couches and flipped through one of the magazines. They were all full of pictures of women's hairdo's or clothing. He found himself watching Ann work on his mother's hair.

First, she washed it in the sink. Alan had never been in a beauty salon, only barber shops. He was surprised at how his mother had to lay back on the chair while Ann shampooed her hair. Next, Ann wrapped a towel around his mother's hair and had her walk back over to the styling chair.

She then combed out the wet hair and pulled the cart over to herself and pulled one of the trays back a bit. She took out a thin plastic rod with a black elastic thing attached to one end. Alan watched with interest as she wrapped his mother's hair around the rod and rolled it to her scalp where the elastic was used to hold the rod in place. Alan's curiosity got the best of him.

"What are those?" He asked.

"These are called perm rods, Alan," Ann explained like a teacher instructing a class. "I wrap your mother's hair in these before I put some chemicals on it."

"What does that do?" He continued, still confused.

"Well, that helps the hair hold a curl for weeks," Ann explained. "Oh. I thought mom's hair was naturally curly."

"I wish," Karen Taylor sighed.

Alan continued watching as Ann rolled section after section of his mother's hair. When she was done, there must have been sixty perm rods wound into it. Then, taking some cotton strips, Ann began lining them under the bottom row of rods all around his mother's

head.

"This next step may smell a little," Ann warned as she took a plastic squeeze bottle and proceeded to squirt a coating of liquid onto each rod while Mrs. Taylor held a plastic catch pan around her neck. "Whew! That's awful!" Alan exclaimed as the strong ammonialike smell filled the room.

"I know," Ann agreed, "but it's part of the process, sorry."