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Boomer girl
I am sitting in a barber chair, commanding my stylist to make me look like Ellen Barkin.
I’ve brought to my appointment three photographs, each shot from a different angle, of Ms. Barkin as she appears in the new movie, “Oceans 13.”
“Make me look like THAT,” I say with authority.
My stylist and I go way back. He has seen me through highs and lows — from hair heaven to hair hell. He has talked me down from countless mid-summer meltdowns (“Chop it off! I can’t stand it any longer! Cut it all off right NOW!”), much like a veteran cop talks a jumper down from a bridge. He understands that I come from a long line of women who firmly believe that, in the end, it’s all about the hair. That the perfect hairstyle is the key to inner peace and happiness. And that when we die we’d rather be cremated than surrender our precious locks to an unfamiliar funeral parlor cosmetician.
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