from Jason’s chair

My pals were still cavorting back in Chicago, but at midnight, I finally stopped playing, stopped eating…

[Q: where am I? what am I eating?]




…and took a taxi to my overnight spot and crashed. Just for a small while. In the wee hours of the morning, I caught the early bus out to Madison, making it here in time to catch the tail end of this:





…against the backdrop of this week’s storm damage:





…but more importantly, in time to show up promptly for my appointment with the genius of color, Jason.

It had been three months since I had seen him. I am more addicted to monthly visits with him than I am to either lattes or wine with dinner and that’s saying a lot. Still, my travels had kept me away and, shock to my system that it was, once, at the beginning of June, I forced myself to visit a French salon, to touch up that, which the sun refused to bleach and match with the rest.

I expected to witness a look of horror on Jason’s face when we first faced each other, but he is a cool guy and he looked, for the most part, unfazed (I’m sure I saw an ever slight tightening of the jaw muscle, but just for a fleeting second).

You want to try to match all this? – he asked, picking up strand after strand of hair that had reached a very golden retriever like shade, from the combination of south France sun and high Rockies rays.




Yes, don’t you think it’s a good look for the summer?
Playful, sure. Can we let go of some of the copper tones and bring out some deeper shades from the back of the head?

I knew he wouldn’t like the copper tones. Right now, my head has so many shades that I could not possibly sift and sort through it all.

You pick! – I said. I sensed that this would sit well with him. Jason likes to be entrusted with the whole business.

And you’ll let me put some shape into the cut as well? More pointed and even on both sides?
(A slight dig at the cutting talents of French stylists, I think.)
Yes, yes of course. You’ll fix it, wont you?

I could tell he was mellowing. He started to speak positively of the French, admitting to wanting to visit Paris this fall. I didn’t push things. I continued to insert a few mocking comments directed at the salon I had visited in Montpellier (do you know that they reused a hairbrush that had detangled the hair of another patron?) just to keep the good vibes flowing.

The evening rolled in with storms again. Not the strength of those that knocked down trees on Capitol Square, but still, ones with loud rolls of thunder. But between Jason and me, there was peace. I like it that way. Note the surreptitious grin on his face as I quickly snuck in a photo on my way out.