Laurie Johns Weblog

 Today I did something I never thought I would. I let a 62 year old man cut my hair. He was amazing, wielding a pair of scissors in each hand and chop, chop choping; swaying in time to his artistry. There were so many things I wanted to ask him but I didn’t want to interrupt his artistic trance. I have never seen anybody move like that or scissors fly so quickly around my head. He followed my hair, as he followed my head, its shape from top to back–jawline to neck. As the curls and natural inclinations of the strands revealed themselves, they were incorporated into his creation. As I sat there thinking about how his eyesight was probably not what it used to be, I realized it didn’t matter, he called upon an intuitive sense. He didn’t speak, he just cut. I did find out a few things, however: he was born and raised in San Francisco (North Beach), he had been cutting hair since 1969, his best friend moved from Ohio to California inspired in the 1970s by the song California dreaming, he is Italian. When it was over and I walked to the desk to pay, he must have fumbled for something on the desk because he declared, “I have a hard time acting cool around pretty girls.” He also said what a nice and pleasant surprise it was that I walked in the sudio and when I turned the knob, his “Arrivederci Bella” ringing in my ears, I knew that the pleasure had been all mine. I had spent the afternoon with Tito, the mad scientist hairdresser, in Tito Salon.