Maria used to be in Northridge, at Tampa and Rinaldi. Then she moved to Devonshire and Reseda. Then she moved to Granada Hills. And I have followed her each time, like a dog at her heels. That's because Maria understands me, and she understands my hair. I'd like to think that my psychic waves of need drew her closer and closer to Granada Hills, but I know I'm not the only person who can't bear to imagine a world without her. Just a few weeks ago, a woman came up to me at the gym and said, "I love your hair -- who cuts it for you?" "Maria Milanes," I said, and a third woman who'd overheard us exclaimed, "Maria does my hair too!" "Wow!" I said. And then, the three of us just stood together silently, in a moment of quiet reverence. "Did you just get your hair cut?" a friend of mine asked at a party. "Um, four months ago," I answered. "This is that same haircut!?" she replied in awe. "
Showing posts from February 1, 2011
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