|(Photo courtesy of John Starr)|
I'll give you that spritz of confidence you can't get anywhere else. I'll tell you to take your hair back to bed and call in sick. I'll even write you a doctor's note. Better yet, I'll call work and pretend I'm your doctor. "Trudy can't come in today. She's come down with the Follicle Flu. It's very contagious. Trust me, you don't want her around."
What are my qualifications for opening my no-frills Salon de Sassiness? A lifetime of haircare disappointment. A sink full of tsouris. A cabinet of useless products. Ten photo albums of Horrible Hair Choices. You don't need a license for this sort of expertise. You need a hair therapist. I'm your gal. I'll analyze your needs in two seconds flat and send you on your way. It'll be the best $300 you've ever spent. Too much? Fine. Bring a coupon, I'll give you 50 percent off.
So please, stop by Carol's Hair Fashions for an overpriced, but then, what isn't, assessment of your personal hair mishegas. Walk-ins welcome. And remember, it's not just what's inside that counts. That's a lie, my friends. First get your outside in order, then we can volumize your baby fine psyche.