The fun that is known as Haircut.

Whenever I need a haircut and am in New Paltz, I take a walk into town. Nextdoor to P&G’s there is a haircutting place called Ricci’s. It’s not your average haircutting place. It’s a barbershop. Run by women. Nothing bad there, just a little odd. They play music from a Sound Choice channel which ranges in their mood. Several times that I’ve been there, they have had the wonders of 90s (I'm cool like that) or the magic of Disco (Do the Hustle!) . Plastic/Metal-hybrid folding chairs are on the wall parallel from the 3 cutting chairs. A magazine rack contains a mixture of Sports Illustrated, Consumer Report, Businessweek, and Cosmo.

Along with the stereotypical pictures of 90s haircuts on the wall, each girl has placed random nick-nacks on their mirrors. While I was sitting on the left chair, usually run by Maria (not a Ricci and she wasn’t there, more on that later) I stared at a picture of a doggie, and two postcards of men. One where he was in a Speedo in Switzerland, the other was a group shot of men in Speedos lying on a beach. It was the same postcards that I saw as a kid in Atlantic City, next to the shot of Showboat or Sands. Along with that I can see Maria and Kristina’s Licenses. Kristina has a normal picture of her attached, Maria’s on the other hand looks like it was taken in P&G’s while drinking. A very typical facebook/myspace picture.

There is usually have a little dog running around, and they have a little fence door for the dog. It wasn't there the day i got my haircut. The owner (Kristina’s mother who probably started Ricci's or took it over from her father or something) whose name I still haven’t figured out laughs about it, “You know even though the door is there to keep the dog in, it’s good for keeping kids in too.” They give lollypops to kids, and the time I was there it seemed like this one kid knew the drill, he was being nice while his younger brother was being a little ADHD on the seat occasionally turning and looking at me. I’d smile back. I feared that he’d have a funny cut in his hair because of the turning. The older kid though was done, had asked nicely for a lollypop, took one out of the drawer, thanked the mother cutter, and asked his mom if she could remove the plastic wrapper for him. I swear he was only 5. He sat back in one of the chairs patiently waiting for his younger brother to finish.

I usually get my haircut from Maria, even though I like Kristina’s haircutting skills better. Timing I guess. The day I was there, Maria wasn’t there, but a woman named Dawn was in her place. She looked like she was in her 40s, has taken too much drugs in her life, and has peroxided her hair so it was a very platinum blonde. Her hair was in messy curls. She wore clothes like she wanted to fit in with the late 20-something Kristina. There is traditionally a little banter between the haircutter and I and because Dawn is new to me I got the basic questions. You know, yes I am a student, taking business classes, from Yonkers, older sister, yeah, mmhmm. She got a phone call and took it and excused herself, I didn’t mind at all. But all I heard were these two phrases:

“Did you find my pills?” and “Did you feed Autumn yet?”

It was worth sitting back and thinking how I didn’t like the fact that my head looks a lot rounder from the way Dawn and Maria both cut my hair. She returned, apologizes and continues. By the time we were done I got the traditional question of how I style my hair. She responded with “messy” and I agreed with her. She asked if she could put gel in. Traditionally I would say no, but today I said okay. Just because it was from a random woman who got a little ocd by the end. She rubbed gel into her hands and then ran it through my hair. Then she spent the next 5 minutes rubbing my head trying to get it right. She gave me one tip: Gel all my hair back, then lightly push forward. I thanked her, paid my dues, tipped her, and went on my way.

The next five minutes I called up Eric and discussed what just happened. Eric believes that she is taking Vicodin for her years of drug usage. We still aren’t sure of Autumn is her daughter or dog. Eric told me not to count out that she may have named her son Autumn. I really hope not. I find Dawn to be a stereotype of a New Paltz Townie:
One that has taken drugs, partied, maybe a little too hard, but is happy here making a living, talking to other townies and students about life and the newest gossip around the Paltz.

For an eight dollar haircut, I get a lot of entertainment.