Old Archive

Hair-Show Model For a Day

By Aviya Kushner

"I'm going to teach you to frou and fouf," a bearded man in a fluorescent orange jacket boomed into a microphone as three scantily dressed models sashayed down the runway. He flipped each model's hair, discussing the colors used. Then the bearded man said: "With our training, you can fouf in your own salon." My friend and I clapped, mesmerized.

We were hair-show models for the day, and the bearded man was the owner of a hair-coloring company headquartered in California. While waiting for our transformations, we got to watch dozens of hairdressers strut their stuff. Some guys sang, others threw free samples at the audience. Women hairdressers tended to dress in outlandish outfits, all in an attempt to get First a bit of background, or at least an explanation of how I got here. My mother has been a model for hair schools several times, with pretty good results. Despite the looks of my mother's bouncy post-modeling tresses, I was never interested, and I made my position clear. And yet, when one of my mother's Manhattan hairdressers was planning a trip to the New England Beauty Expo and complained about the difficulty of finding agreeable models who wouldn't throw a fit if say, six inches fell to the ground, my mother smiled. Without hesitating, my mother handed over my phone number.

The deal was this. A free haircut from a very talented woman whose rates are way out of my price range. In exchange, I had to dress like I was "going out," agree to sit on a podium, and let other hairdressers comment on my hair. Above all, I had to be flexible.

Not only did I agree, but I got four friends to come along, all eager for free cuts and an adventure. The bonus--we got free admission to a show chock full of wholesale beauty products, where we could buy 15-dollar lipsticks for 2.50, with no taxes. Surely this was worth a seven a.m. Sunday wake-up.

We got to see the latest in beauty delights. There's a lip gloss that pumps up the blood vessels in your lips, for a more sensuous look. I tried it, and felt a huge sting for several hours. Later, we found out the lip gloss was made with the same ingredient as, yup, Viagra.

Then there was the dark room, with curtains all around. At the door stood a huge woman with silver wings taped to her back. Inside, a man in leggings spread some kind of goop on our hair. We had streaks, sparkles. The idea--a new gel that adds sparkle for club kids, but can't be seen in the light. Glow-in-the-dark hair, basically. We all loved it.

Blow-dryer displays and brush booths bored us. But I was thrilled with the nail-polish array, including some excellent shades of brownish purple. Then there were the hair accessories--rhinestone barrettes, flapper-style hairbands, combs with butterflies attached to them, and baskets of clips, for a third of the usual price. We also heard about the latest in hair trends, such as the frou and fouf.

Finally, it was time to sit in the chair. As I sat with my hair wet, swathed in a bright green shift, I heard comments on my scalp, my neck, my shoulders, and the effect of pricey shampoo on the volume of my hair. I also had the pleasure of hearing my friend get this compliment: "you have such a nicely shaped head." At the end of the day, we all had much shorter hair. I have new layers along the back of my head, but the fuzz feels good. Another friend has been collecting compliments by the basketful. A third now has a two-layer cut, called a "deck," instead of her usual one-length curls.

The verdict: four out of five of us would do it again.