The Salon
by Eva Pasco
Some historians claim "The Sixties" arrived on June 15, 1955 when
antinuclear activists protested a civil defense drill, and ended with the final U.S. withdrawal from Vietnam
in 1975. For me, the middle of the Sixties revolved around The
Salon. Every Saturday morning my mother, sister, and I would
slide along the backseat of my Aunt Evelyn’s coral and white, bat-winged, Chevy Impala. My uncle chomped on a
cigar while chatting good naturedly at the wheel, chauffeuring us downtown. He’d drop the four of us off
curbside along Eddy Street for my mother and aunt’s weekly hair appointment at their cousin’s posh
salon.
The repertoire of Sixties hair styles included the "beehive" or
raised bouffant transforming
even the thinnest and weakest of tresses into voluminous oomph. Such sculptures mandated that hair be prepped with
a wash n’ set which involved wrapping sections of hair around brush rollers, and sitting under a hardtop bonnet
dryer until baked. The comb-out required extensive "teasing" with a rat comb before smoothing into a helmet and
preserving the look with generous amounts of hairspray or lacquer. Such fussy hair styles as my mother’s puffs and
my aunt’s bubble demanded the ministrations of a pro— their cousin—hairstylist to the theatrical.
Though curbside, gaining access to the salon on the opposite side
of the street restricted to pedestrians, necessitated our entourage make a grand entrance through Woolworth’s. The
savory smell of chicken soup emanating from behind the counter permeated the store while we made time to browse the
aisles. I dawdled by the shelves displaying Rhode Island souvenirs, fascinated by seashells and miniature
lighthouses.
Once inside the salon, my sister and I sat on the leather sofa,
leafing through hairstyle magazines and watching my cousin work his magic to create glamorous hairdos sprinkled
with glitter for the exotic dancers who frequented his salon. I will never forget being introduced to Bobby
Vinton’s songwriter who waited for his wife while she had her hair done.
When super model Twiggy, "The Face of 1966," popularized her ultra
short, boyish, Vidal Sassoon haircut, my cousin created a buzz by deftly wielding his scissors to duplicate the
latest geometric cut on my cousins Gail, Deborah, and me. We just had to have our ears pierced after
that.
My uncle swung by in the early evening to pick us up and squire us
to dinner either at Luke’s, the Chinese restaurant in Kennedy Plaza, or per chance Mainelli’s or Welcome’s on
Chalkstone Avenue in the Providence burbs. The Salon offered my sister and me a rich cultural experience off the
straight and narrow path. My cousin accommodated people from all walks of life and circumstances, making everyone
feel like a million bucks when they walked out of his salon.
Click the book images to order your
copy of the
books.

Signed copies of the Paperback, 40 % off suggested retail, may
be acquired at the Authors Den Signed Bookstore via Eva’s web page: http://www.authorsden.com/evapasco
|