music

After 22 years, the retail gods have smiled upon me and yours truly has Saturday’s off from the Salon – a rare occurrence in our industry. At our shop I am needed more from Monday to Friday, as the owner is in the shop every Saturday if a customer service issue should arise. As I was running errands yesterday, the sunshine warming my soul, windows down, a fresh cool breeze blowing my hair out of my face, a song came on the radio that catapulted me back to 1977, Camaro’s, Meatloaf’s Bat out of Hell and memories of my Dad. Those of you familiar with my tales know of my musical references – My love of music comes from my Dad. He would blare Bat out of Hell with the windows down in the Camaro.(for a 7 year old driving past the cute boy’s house…this was a BIG deal). He would sing along to The Guess Who and Gordon Lightfoot. He would play me chords of his favorite Beatles songs on his guitar. He taught me the difference between Bach and Bachman Turner Overdrive.

I am going to give you all a little glimpse behind the curtain. Who I am today has a lot to do with my Dad. (to the rest of my clan…calm down…love you too…). You see, I was not your typical little girl. Sure, I played with Barbie’s, I would dress them up, have them pretend to go on dates. I would also pretend that they were beating up bullies and would get out my markers and draw a black eye on the receiver of the final blow. I didn’t like wearing dresses…unless it was my birthday or there was a promise of a photo op. (when I was little I firmly believed that a movie director would see me one day and say “finally…we found her”.). I was the kid who beat up the bullies or took down the kid hurting the neighbourhood cats. I was also the kid who slept with 20 stuffed animals (my protector’s from things that go bump in the night) and every so often went to bed wearing my housecoat and slippers in case there was a fire, I was prepared. I loved sports and was known to twirl after I scored a goal or hit a home run. I could go from Rocky Balboa to Dorothy Gale in 3.2 seconds…and my Dad never tried to change that. Ever. Even throughout my turbulent teens, hell, my early adulthood, he always gave me a soft place to fall. My Dad let me be whoever I had to be at the time. He forgave my anger. He let me have my anger without judgement. My Dad gave me the space and the time to find myself…the person he always knew I was, just that I had forgotten.

Whenever I am feeling a little lost, or can’t seem to get past a block in the road, I listen to Meatloaf. Yep. Meatloaf. With my headphones on and the tunes cranked up, unbeknowst to my Dad (until now), I am reminded of who I am. I am that girl who can do anything she wants, be anything she wants and am off like a Bat out of Hell.

I really was going to tell a tale of hairspray and the difference between the level of hold, or hold factor different sprays have, alas, that will have to be another tale for another time. As I began to write about hold factors, I found myself thinking about the hold factor of people, emotions and thoughts we allow in our lives. …what can I say, I have had 4 cups of coffee and this is how my mind works. As you know, I manage a Retail shop/Salon. The Salon is a place that men and women come to feel better about themselves, to improve their reflection, to find what was once lost. Some days, ours is a place of refuge from the pushes and pulls of their daily lives. It is their escape from whatever may have a hold on them that day – be it a sick child, an aging parent and more often than not, an escape from what they really think of themselves – or what they think they are supposed to think of themselves.

For those of you familiar with my Salon Tales, you know that I haven’t always been the confident, classy, sassy and a tad smart-assy woman that I am today. I have been the young woman who missed out on trips to the beach because I wasn’t “beach body ready”. I have been the woman who was afraid to leave the house without her make up on. I have been the mother feeling like a failure because I thought it was protocol to drop my child off at the Birthday party, not stay and stand in line for my turn at pin the tail on the donkey. …speaking of which, whatever happened to dropping your kid off at their friends birthday party and picking them up when the party is over?…back to the tale at hand. I have been the woman who was judged because her 3 year old daughter knew the words to Domino by KISS. I have been the woman who put her dreams on the back burner out of fear of judgement from those who told me that “as a mother, to be fulfilled, your children should be enough.”. – now I know that they were drinking their own kool aid. …wait for it…there you go.

Today’s tale is aimed at all the Ladies and Gents (yes Gents – men have hold factors too Ladies), to remind you that you are enough, that you are worth what ever you think you are worth – and only your opinion matters.

– For all the mothers out there – we are supposed to be in this together. If you are a stay at home mom or a working mom – we love our kids the same, we have the same worries and hopes for our children, we our mothers – no better, no worse. I stayed home with my daughter until she was 5 – that was a personal choice that worked best for my family. Never once did I shun the working mom – if anything I asked if she needed my help. An additional tale for your viewing pleasure;

Beware of yoga pants & ponytails

– Do you have a dream? Is there something you have always wanted to do, ever since you can remember? Then do it. As parents, the best thing we can do for our children is pursue our passions and chase our dreams. How are our children going to learn to dream if we don’t show them how?

– Go to the beach. Just go. Forget about being “beach body ready” and go and have fun. No matter what your weight or bust size – we all get sand in our suits.

– Unless your name is on the birthday invitation to little Johnny’s birthday party – you do not have to stay at the party. Trust me, the parents that frown when you drop off your child and ask “what time should I pick them up?” are wishing they had the guts to do the same.

– Ladies and Gents – let your spouses/partners choose the hair style they like, that they feel most comfortable with, that makes them feel desirable. It doesn’t matter how good you think a certain cut will look on them if it makes them feel ugly and inadequate.

– The above goes for stylists as well. Never let a stylist tell you what cut you should have. It is a stylist’s job to help you find the look you want, not tell you the look you want. If you aren’t sure about making a drastic change with your hair, don’t do it.

– I once read that “worrying is praying for what you don’t want” – remember that the next time you worry about the opinions of others.

– If you want to change your hair color – go for it.*at the Salon. Becoming a blonde was the best thing I ever did. It hides my gray’s and I do have a lot of fun …proving that blondes are NOT dumb.

– Introduce your children to music, from Mozart to Metallica. Music will open their minds and lift their spirits, no matter what the genre.

In the wee small hours of the morning, all that matters is what you think. All that matters is you have done your best and that you will continue to strive for better. All that matters is that you are kind. All that should be important is what you deem to be so. The only hold factor you should be concerned about is the hold factor of your favorite styling product.