But! There's an adorable dog to distract, homemade fizzy lemonade across the street, and floor-to-ceiling windows hung with paint-splattered canvas to look out of while they tend to your hair. Going there is a commitment, as it's a process that takes five-hours minimum.
Unlike your traditional massive salon experience, Pickthorn is quiet and intimate. Her credentials don't disappoint either: she's worked with Laurie Foley and spent time as Orlando Pita's first assistant. So off I went to the salon (a new one).Ĭolorist Chelsey Pickthorn's work has interested me for a while-her salon is down the street from me in Brooklyn, where she mixes dye (mostly Davines) by hand and then paints it onto hair, piece-by-piece, for some of the most natural-looking color I've seen. And I was in desperate need of a better hair appointment experience to cancel out everything that went wrong with my most recent hatchet job. I wasn't entirely confident that I'd win against the cowlick when left to my own devices. My hair was so accustomed to its side positioning that parting it in any other place brought about one bona fide cowlick. Not quite as bad as obvious roots but bad enough. Because my hair lightens up a lot during the summer, and over the years I’ve also gotten highlights, the color in the centermost vicinity of my head was noticeably less blond than the rest of my hair. I ran into problems-plural-the first of which was color. I figured it'd require some quick DIY combing after my next shower, and I'd be good to go.īut if it were that easy, there'd be no story here. That sort of length and body is out of the question for me, so the real task at hand was just moving my part from the side to the middle. Simply put, there's less to hide behind (unless you're working with Blake Lively's cascading waves). Hair parted straight down the center takes confidence-both in yourself and in your facial symmetry. They say start small, so I looked to the one thing I thought I could easily change: my part. The bad razor job sealed the deal: I needed to change something- anything-about my hair. Say what you will about the virtues of having a signature hairstyle, but complacency is not a good look. My ends looked like I put on the wooliest pair of socks and scooted my feet all over the carpet-standing on end, all the time. But when I went in to get an “easy' maintenance cut, seeing an unfamiliar stylist backfired-he razored in layers with a heavy hand. Beyond switching to iced coffee, I fully expected my spring to be same-old, same-old in the good, habitual company of my side part. A few weeks back, the start of spring meant that everyone around me was doing something differently-going from brunette to blonde or back again, or showing up to work in an unspeakably smart suit on a Wednesday. In the winter, I'll get it lightened once or twice, but other than that, it's au naturel.
And day to day, I just shower, go to sleep, and run a straightener through it in the morning. So easy that I've never even seen one hairdresser consistently-sometimes that means I end up with slight layers, but in general it's pretty hard to mess up. It's a style that's easy to execute with my straight Goldilocks hair (it's not too thick, not too thin-it's just right). I've had the same haircut for my entire life.