holga barbershop by Mathieu Struck
True Story
Missed Connections in Brooklyn
i was in 3rd grade when i was first placed into foster care
there was no foster family available, so i moved
into the bronx shelter for children
they took me to a barber shop and cut my hair
the barber only spoke spanish
and i only spoke english
with my long hair cut off i sat crying
in the barber chair
as he pointed to a picture of
john f. k on a calendar
on the wall
and i noticed, we now had
the same
haircut
(true story)
Her Two Cents
As far back as I can remember, I’ve wanted curly hair. What I have is stick straight, with cowlicks and swirls in both front and back, top and bottom. Around the age of ten I managed to convince my mother to take me to see Pat, the lady up the street who “did hair” in her basement, to get a perm. Images of looking like Marie Osmond filled my mind, but the reality was more like a “mature perm” (you know, the one my grandma had) that bleached my brown hairs into something slightly orange. Yes, I too sat in that beauty salon chair and cried – until the relaxer was applied and we all pretended it never happened. (true story)
