Miracles seem to be Christopher’s superpower. First visit it took the form of understanding my waving multiple photos of myself and models asking for an impossibly exact highlighted color. He nailed it. I walked out with the exact shade. No “give it a couple of shampoos and it’ll be perfect.” A close cousin to “Buy the shoes, they’ll stretch.”
This visit, I texted him my Hair of Shame photo, along with a whimpering excuse. Depressed by the Pandemic, second Holiday Season alone as Covid made second rounds, etc, etc, etc. my one-night stand with a late night, Door Dash delivered drugstore box of hair color. My hair looked like it had gone for a ride in a dark alley and put away wet.
Isolated for a week, washing it twice a day. Stuck like Covid weight. Hid in the shadows going to my early appointment. Expected stripping (my hair color), slightly off color with a slightly crunchy texture. You can only do so much with metallic looking splotches, right?
Calm reassurance. One application. Perfect, glossy (even while wet) color, with HIGHLIGHTS. Almost cried. Must have said thank you more than I breathed.
Now I can 1) leave my apartment, 2) reschedule professional headshots that need doing.. 3) have something to tell my damn watch when it chimes and asks me to be mindful of the positive.
Thank you Christopher.
I don’t know who or where, but somewhere, someone got their wings.