Red Lippy & A Fresh Haircut
Arezzo, Italy.
2013.
My mum's school friend bartering with the local barber to cut a woman's hair at his shop, using all forms of womanly charm short of kissing the man.
I sat with his apprentice, a Kurdish man knowing full well what it was like to be an outsider inside the four walls of that establishment, trying to make his way through the day and through life. We sat and shared brief words in broken English and Italian. He was honoured to cut my hair, to go against the grain of the society he found himself in and with the grain of my hair's unchangeable cowlick.
I remember stepping out onto the cobbled street - a new woman. Weeks of travelling and hiking and meandering through France and Italy being shawn off my head and off my mind as meandered and hiked up the crawling streets of Arezzo's town. I applied my favourite rouge and away I was again, my then love beside me with a matching fresh cut and matching sense of adventure.
Australia,
2018.
My hands digging deep into the pockets of some cheap shorts I bought at a department store two summers prior. My hair growing long, slowly gaining a natural wave.
I remember the barbershop moment. A glimpse into my old life. One that I don't entirely miss, but one where I recognise there were things I never needed to "give up", yet did. Weeks, years of travelling and hiking and meandering through my early twenties being shaved from the books of importance in my life only to find myself craving them once again because I threw the baby out with the bathwater. In my mind I'm retracing the crawling streets of Arezzo's town. Sitting down at that little caffé where I could order an espresso and know that's what I was getting. In my mind I'm applying my favourite rouge and away I go again - but this time I'm solo, and I'm owning it. Just me, my fresh hair cut, and matching sense of adventure.
To the girl I was in 2015 - the only difference between you now and then is this: you didn't know the Holy One that created that smile.
To the girl I am in 2018 - remember that He is the one that created that smile. And go forth in every nook and cranny of this earthly adventure with the inner confidence that a fresh haircut and red lippy exudes.
2013.
My mum's school friend bartering with the local barber to cut a woman's hair at his shop, using all forms of womanly charm short of kissing the man.
I sat with his apprentice, a Kurdish man knowing full well what it was like to be an outsider inside the four walls of that establishment, trying to make his way through the day and through life. We sat and shared brief words in broken English and Italian. He was honoured to cut my hair, to go against the grain of the society he found himself in and with the grain of my hair's unchangeable cowlick.
I remember stepping out onto the cobbled street - a new woman. Weeks of travelling and hiking and meandering through France and Italy being shawn off my head and off my mind as meandered and hiked up the crawling streets of Arezzo's town. I applied my favourite rouge and away I was again, my then love beside me with a matching fresh cut and matching sense of adventure.
Australia,
2018.
My hands digging deep into the pockets of some cheap shorts I bought at a department store two summers prior. My hair growing long, slowly gaining a natural wave.
There's no Kurdish barber, just me and a home-bleach dye kit under the bathroom vanity, and a Trey McLaughlin YouTube playlist cranking on a Sunday evening. I'm trying to make my way through the day and through life. Sitting and sharing brief words with myself. Honouring myself with self-care, going against the grain of my normal Sunday night activities and routine, and with the grain of what my soul needs most at this moment.
I remember the barbershop moment. A glimpse into my old life. One that I don't entirely miss, but one where I recognise there were things I never needed to "give up", yet did. Weeks, years of travelling and hiking and meandering through my early twenties being shaved from the books of importance in my life only to find myself craving them once again because I threw the baby out with the bathwater. In my mind I'm retracing the crawling streets of Arezzo's town. Sitting down at that little caffé where I could order an espresso and know that's what I was getting. In my mind I'm applying my favourite rouge and away I go again - but this time I'm solo, and I'm owning it. Just me, my fresh hair cut, and matching sense of adventure.
To the girl I was in 2015 - the only difference between you now and then is this: you didn't know the Holy One that created that smile.
To the girl I am in 2018 - remember that He is the one that created that smile. And go forth in every nook and cranny of this earthly adventure with the inner confidence that a fresh haircut and red lippy exudes.
