Desirous of nailing that perfectly-polished look for the week, a young female banker arrived at one of Monrovia’s top-notch beauty salons on Saturday expecting that by the time she left the parlor, she would have been made be glamorously fresh, pretty and manicured. Instead, she would leave with tears streaming down her cheeks.
Saturday in Monrovia is considered by many young Liberian women, a-touch-up day. It is on Saturday that they congregate at the various beauty salons around town in search of a designer’s look. They spend real [$] dollars to obtain that polished look: styling their hair in ways that stay put, looking after their nails, their brows, and their lashes; and not forgetting to buy some of those vaunted cosmetics that work well with their skin. If these activities seem to require little physical exertion, you had better think again since, in reality, they do not. The truth is, it is a time and cash consuming affair that takes loads of effort---and plenty money as well.
And so, in keeping with this ‘tradition’, this young female banker arrived at a salon at the corner of Gurley and Carey Streets, in downtown Monrovia. One could tell from the look on her face, that she was indeed expecting to be ‘put to town’ for the upcoming week---nothing too complicated, just a simple redo of her nails, her brows and lashes.
When she first entered the salon, she headed straight for the salon owner to explain what she wanted done that day: hair trimmed; permed ends clipped to allow the new growth a chance to flourish, while she rocked that natural look.
But that day was a sad one for the salon owner who had just lost his girl in child birth. So, he turned the young woman over to his assistant, who had been assigned to remain in charge for the rest of the day. But the young female banker did not feel pleased about having a lady do her the favor.
“I’ve never had a woman cut my hair before; I don’t trust the skills of a woman. I prefer a man,” she said, finding herself a chair and sitting.
That didn’t come as a surprise at all. Sometimes, we, women, tend to underestimate other women’s potentials---a setback to the fight for gender equality.
And so, after a short while, a newly-hired male apprentice decided to respond to the female banker’s preference for a male hairdresser. He mustered the courage to ask her to come so that he could do the job. Without any hesitation, she moved towards the guy. But, instead of grabbing a pair of scissors for the trimming or cutting, this guy reached up for a shaving machine turned it on and gradually began chopping off the woman’s hair.
Soon, the back of her head was shining in all of the mirrors in the parlor. Now she was sporting a near-bald hairdo she had not dreamed she’d be caught wearing.
She had not noticed what was going on---in fact no one had, as everyone had been busy weaving, braiding or styling other customers’ hair. But by the time the guy reached the front of her hair, she took a glance at the mirror and became furious.
“Oh! So, you nah come give me papay hairdo?!” she yelled at the top of her voice. And suddenly everyone noticed what had happened to her dream of acquiring a ‘knockout’ look. “I can’t go home looking like this. My boyfriend and children might think I’ve gone crazy. I have never shaved my head before. What is this you’ve done to me,” she asked, with tears streaming down her cheeks.
Besides being worried about what her husband and children might think of her, this female banker was equally concerned about what her co-workers, her clientele and her bosses might think of her new look. With all these on her mind, she cried bitterly.
Noticing that the front of her head had not been touched, she demanded that what had been shaved off be planted back; the salon lacked the material and instruments to attempt such a procedure.
Our female-banker’s screaming alerted the salon owner who came out to find out what the ruckus was about. After being told what had happened, the supervisor told his staff to apologize to the woman.
For the next couple of months, our lady would have no choice but to scarf her head, to keep from moving about with a near-bald hair condition. In fact, she left the salon that day with her head wrapped in a purple silk scarf. And that too did little to satisfy her.
She complained that it normally took five to six trials before having her scarf beautifully wrapped in a way that suited her face. She termed scarf wrapping the most tedious aspect of her morning formalities before leaving home for work. It was tough, but she had no choice but to deal with her crushed dream.
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