by Claudia Rey
Omar owned an elegant beauty parlor in Mexico City. Small but central, well known among the so-called fresas (strawberries) the young and rich and spoiled girls who follow every fashion diktat and love to dress in pink. He was very good, worked a lot, was slowly becoming rich. His fancy cuts were famous. But suddenly he had enough. Pollution, traffic, cold weather? Enough. He left the shop to his business partner and came to the beach. Now he lives eight months near the sea, walks along the beach with a backpack filled with his tools - scissors, combs, towels, sprays - and cuts hair directly there, on the sand. He also goes to the customer's home or hotel if she needs something more sophisticated such as color, highlights or whatever. Along with hair care he gives face massages and philosophical conversation, and likes to pretend that his second name is Aristotle... The town shop still works, and affectionate customers still hope for him to go back for real. Which will never happen, he tells me with a grin. The few months he has to stay there, in the cold capital, he feels upset and nervous. Mexico City is not his place anymore. Home is where you feel happy, corazón. How could anyone disagree?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment