Got my last NYC haircut today, from my original "Chelsea Styles" lady. (That shop closed after owner Vincent -- the Robert Goulet-lookalike-- retired last summer and moved to the Poconos after 30 years in business across from the Chelsea Hotel). Many of the same stylists relocated to the same new shop that I went to today. The new shop isn't the same, though. It's nicer, but with much less character (i.e., they know about "gel" and "blow-drying" and there are young Russian women there kvetching about Midtown night-clubs and Fresh Direct, as opposed to 70-something Jewish ladies from the 'hood kvetching about everyone else in the shop).
Here's a "farewell to NYC" haircut picture, taken in my bathroom (where the light's better) minutes ago:
Which reminded me of another set of "bathroom mirror shots"... In September of '07, when I had a brand new (what I thought then would be cool) place to live, and a brand new (what I thought then would be permanent) job in the beautiful Union Square that paid $28 an hour! As well as a brand new (what I thought then would last 6 weeks) haircut from Chelsea Styles. Do I look a little cuter and more smug and a lot less frazzled? :) (I feel like I've aged 10 years in the past 3 because of the stress. And the bathroom decor was better then, too.)