Hairdresser of dreams, where art thou?

Hair is deep with women. I face an appointment with a new hairdresser with more trepidation than a mammogram.

Could I slide this letter under the door, before my first appointment?

Dear Hairdresser:

I'm coming in today, and would be delighted to have three parts of you working on my behalf.

First, your extraordinary eye. Your eye will see me: my proportions, preferences, aesthetic- and then choose an effortlessly chic style. I will look current but not weird, and can replicate this at home.

Just yesterday, I read a hairdresser's comment that, "I have to get you, and I only have 15 seconds." Why fifteen? Take your time.

Next, your skilled hands: the cut will deliver the vision. I've had hairdressers describe exactly what needs to be done, but not deliver.

(My hair is ringlet-curly; badly cut, I look like Harpo Marx.)

Finally, your heart: kindness, or at least tact.

(Found a style in a magazine. My former hairdresser agreed it was great, and asked for a bit more hair to work with: "Next time, I'll give you this style; leave the magazine with me." When I returned 6 weeks later, he said, "Oh! I just had the most gorgeous young girl in here, and guess which style she picked! Yours! She looked incredible!" Now, I don't need to be the only woman in the world with this style, but his remark took the charm off it.)

In return, I'll be on time, grateful, supportive, loyal, and happily pay and tip.

Love,
D.

In about four hours I return to a former hairdresser. B., who has all three qualities but was inconsistent on the "hands" side. I'm returning because when I approached a woman at my health club who had a terrific cut (and curly hair like me) and asked her who did it, it was B.! We'll see.