Wide Wide Wildblood World

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

After being faithful so long to Hutch, I had a bunch of other hairdressers as I began to get more around than up in the world. In Bethlehem, Columbia, Krakow and St. Francisville, Brackenfell and Nuevo León. Ugo in Tuscany with a Communist newspaper in his shop. Several women scissor handlers. One was Karen, another Heidi (in an earlier blog item). A Marysia to whom I was loyal for several years, persistently tried to make a human being out of me. All three were amateurs. A Titiana and her crew of Figaro trainees less than a block from home. One in Braga to kill time while my women shopped. I walked past the entrance several times before I got up the nerve to try to communicate my desired look in Portuguese. I was not dying for a dyeing wanted to make that known. Unlike certain other members of my family, I prefer my natural color, which I contend is read. As evidence I cite Bob Pinto, who called me “Carrot Top” as he pumped a tiger into our 1940 Oldsmobile at Hamilton and Olden.


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