Joico VeroColor

I hear the all too familiar chirp of the shop’s door, I look up from my orders to say hello and before I can utter a sound I hear “Well! Look at you!”. …with the right side of my head being shaved and a magenta swoop down the side, it is safe to say I am quite used to this… I smiled and said “Hey! Nice to see you again.”. I asked my customer if she needed my help. She did, so I showed her where the product was that she was looking for, carried it to the counter, asked if there was anything else she needed that day and began to ring through her purchases, all the while she was staring at my head and when I would catch her eye, her smirk would disappear. As we were waiting for her debit to connect, she looked me straight in the eye and said “Wow. Your Hair. Aren’t you looking very Neapolitan.”. I just smiled, reminded myself not to show it on my face, and told her to have a nice afternoon.

Now, in a perfect world, she would have meant I resembled a Mediterranean beauty, but knowing that my skin is whiter than preschool paste, and she was sporting a ponytail and yoga pants (with not a yoga studio within 20kms) I knew it was a crack at my hair color. For those of you a little lost …my hair is blonde, pink and brown and some find it to resemble Neapolitan ice cream. After she left, I found myself giggling. Yes, a little at her small view of the world and herself, but mostly at me and how far I had come. Before the age of 24, I was head strong and quite opinionated yet always fair and kind. I was referred to as “spunky” on more than one occasion and also as a tough broad – a true compliment in my book. You see, somewhere between 24 and 37 I lost myself. I used to be the woman that after hearing that wise crack about my hair would have been floored and would have run to the closest mirror trying to see what she saw and thinking I should change my hair, and think I was stupid for even trying something new. I used to let the opinions of others control my decisions and would allow their words to hurt me. I wore my hair short because everyone told me to, it made my face “slimmer”. I wore clothes that were clothes “Mother’s should wear”…what ever the hell that means…I still don’t know. Hell, I even carried a purse I hated and wore shoes that weren’t cute and sparkly like I wanted to, because of some dumb ass comment someone made.

I remember when it began to change, or when I began to change. Actually, I didn’t change. I returned to myself. I was 37. It was December 2009 and I had my hysterectomy. That Christmas was low key, as I was physically unable to perform my yearly Christmas miracles. No cookies were made. Gifts were at a minimum. The only Christmas décor to be seen was our tree. Many had an opinion about my lack of Christmas spirit. Some actually were put out that they wouldn’t be receiving my cookies that year. You know what? I really didn’t care about what they thought. I was too relieved knowing that the 11cm x 21cm x 14cm fibroid was not cancer, and that it had not attached itself to any vital organs. I was too happy to have a week with my husband – our girl still had a week before Christmas vacation and hubby was able to be home with me. I still remember the two of us laughing at the fact we had just had an hour long conversation without an interruption – the first time in 12 years. In those conversations I started to feel like myself, and started to remember who I was. It’s amazing what you realize when you take a moment to be still. …try to do it without having to have surgery.

Fast forward to present day. I dress how I want. I own cute shoes with sparkly bows. I wear heels whenever and wherever I want. I have a cute purse. I own more than one red coat – depending on the weather and the season, a girl has to be prepared. I try new things – be it a new flavour of coffee or a new route home. I say yes to my life more than I say no. I no longer give my time away. I color my hair the way I like. I cut my hair and style my hair the way I like. Today, my wish for you, is that you begin to say yes to you, more than you say no. If you are lost, you begin to be found.

I would rather be Neapolitan than vanilla any day 😉

The retail Holiday season has officially begun. Tree’s are trimmed. Shelves are stocked. The all important Holiday hair appointment’s have been booked and confirmed. Holiday parties have been planned. Christmas carols are playing on every radio station (trust me, I checked). In my corner of the globe, even Mother Nature has joined in, and the snow has begun to fall. This year marks my 25th Holiday season in the retail/sales/customer service gig. Call it nostalgia, call it the Christmas Spirit, over the past couple of weeks, every so often, I found myself getting hopeful, even excited for the coming retail Holiday season. I found myself daydreaming of the customers and I breaking out into joyous song and the Osmond’s entering stage right like in those variety shows in the 70’s. ….but as I know, and for those of you familiar with my Tales of Truth now know, it’s safe to say that the only thing entering stage right is a flying flat iron. …and that I should limit myself to only one Vodka & Tonic a night.

To be clear, I still love Christmas. I love the sights and sounds, decorating my tree and the memories each ornament stirs up. I love making my famous Sugar Cookies and delivering them to my friends and loved ones. The following events, and the events to come – of this I am sure, will not taint my Christmas Spirit….and a little help from my Smirnoff Santa. So, without further adieu, gather ’round Ladies and Gents, boys and girls. It’s time for That Girl in the Red Coat’s Tales of Truth!

The phone rings. As I answer with my standard greeting I am interrupted by “YEAH! Whatever! Do you have my hairspray in yet?”. I ask which hairspray it was she was looking for to which I was told “Well, you’re no help at all!” and she hung up.

A woman came into the shop looking to purchase Joico VeroColor hair color. I let her know that it is not retailed or sold to the public. It is a hair color line that has to purchased by a licensed stylist at the wholesaler. “Well, my old hairdresser would get it for me and I need some more!”. I explained that I could not purchase it for her nor could I sell it to her for the exact reason mentioned above. She asked to speak to a manager and I let her know, “That’s me!”. She stared at me for a minute and on her way out of the shop she told me “If you were any good at your job, you would break a rule now and then!”. …sigh

We have monthly draws every month. As a woman was filling out her ballot, she quipped “You never pick me!”. I giggled and said, “I try to.”. She put the pen down like a judge ruling with his gavel, sighed at me and said “this isn’t funny. I am not impressed that you haven’t chosen my name, after all this time!”. I apologized and told her I would try harder. She said “You better!”, grabbed her Shaper Plus and stomped out the door. …I gotta get a camera to prove this really happens

It took me 10 minutes to explain to a customer that Shampoo for curly hair will not make their straight hair curly. “but the bottle says curl enhancing, so it will give me curls, right?”. I explained that it meant if you already have curls that it will help to enhance them and give someone with curly hair more control of their curls. She stared at me for a minute, kept hold of the bottle, pouted and said “Well, I think it’s unfair that they false advertise.”.

A woman was looking for a certain shade of OPI nail polish. I let her know it was a discontinued shade. As she laughed, I was told that “there is no way YOU could know that!”. I brought out my latest OPI product listing, walked over to her and told her “Lets look at this together and maybe you can find a shade similar to the one you were looking for.” to which she informed me “How am I supposed to know the color I want, I just heard the name of the polish and thought it was fun. Who knows what color it is?!? Do you?!”. ….it took everything in me not to say “there is no way I could know that!”.

One of the fantastic questions posed to me “Will this wax not rip off my skin, you know, around where my underwear is, like between my thighs?” – enough said.