Hair Stories VI

So I’m in Dillard’s, the anchor store for my old home town’s mall. Browsing for prom duds with a buddy. Yes, a man-date.

Down the men’s aisle struts a short, balding man with a one of those horse-shoe ponytails, a voluminous purple silk shirt, and a scale replica of a golden dragonfly perched upon his shoulder. I straighten from examining a (clothes) rack and stare in incredulity. My friend, not missing a beat, cuts in front of me and exchanges pleasantries. Mr. Dragonfly flits off, tossing a “Hey, nice hair. You’re pretty cute too,” to me as he buzzes out of the department.

I’m paralyzed for a moment, but my friend grabs my arm and guides me down the aisle, out of hearing range. Then he stops, grins, turns, and says, “So, now you’ve met my barber.”

December 16th, 2005 | Hair

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