I have always heard that every woman gets one vanity, one aspect of their physical appearance upon which they get to spend an irrational amount of money and/or time. While hating my hair as a child (as most redheads do), my vanity as an adult is certainly what sits atop my head. Thus, I'm always keen to find a salon that is the right fit for that somewhat-sheepish vanity. Somewhere cozy, somewhere friendly, somewhere reminiscent of the beauty parlor we've all seen in movies but not quite that cloyingly chipper. The Hive is that spot.
I found the Hive courtesy of a friend at work who swears by their genius and as we both have long hair and bangs, I thought I'd give them a whirl. Eric had an opening that fit my schedule and I'm so happy that it worked out! I wasn't unhappy with my hair, just a bit bored with it, but not quite bored enough to chop it off. Enter Eric, and his snappy scissors, cutting off a couple inches and reviving some disregarded layers.
Cut skill aside, this is just a happy salon. A scalp massage and steamed facial towel are par for the course these days, right? But this is the first time that someone, after removing said warm facial towel, took the time to look at my eyes and wipe away that touch of mascara smudge. Nobody likes mascara smudge. It's a tiny effort, I know, but it was an appreciated one.
The products are all organic and smell of gardens and homey kitchens, a welcome change from the salons that have a tinge of chemical floating through the air. And conversation flowed naturally in the salon, none of that force fed small talk, just easy, personable conversations about a long winter, favorite local beers.
It has taken me a long time to find a salon with friendly folk, expert scissors, and the kindness to wipe away mascara smudge. The Hive is a wonderful cheerleader for my chosen vanity.
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