Choosing your hairdresser is serious business. I realized this when I switched over to a salon that wasn’t a cheap in-and-out place aka a man’s haircut was over $20.

Growing up, my mom decided who cut my hair. Usually it was this Turkish woman whose broken English I couldn’t understand, but that ended the day she cut my mom’s hair too short and my mom hurled some frozen hotdogs at the kitchen floor, she was so upset. (My mom is embarrassed I’ve retained this memory; probably more embarrassed that I’m blogging about it now.) Then my mom snipped my brother’s, dad’s, and my hair for a while – until I decided I didn’t want a buzz cut. Then we settled on a lovely woman whose chair I looked forward to warming.