Beauty Shops as Sacred Spaces

Rebecca Wells's latest novel, The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder, tells the story of a woman whose destiny is linked to the perfection of hair. Early in the book, Calla Lily Ponder recounts vivid memories of growing up in the shadow of her mother's beauty shop in a small Louisiana town. The shop, wonderfully named The Crowning Glory Beauty Porch, is more than just a place where women get their hair done. It is a place for sharing gossip, learning the ways of the world, and in some cases, healing the soul. In one touching scene, Calla Lily realizes her own calling as she watches her mother ease a widow's pain through a loving shampoo and set---the beautician as minister surrounded by mirrors and shampoo bottles rather than stained glass.

Louisiana native Wells is a master at vividly portraying setting (always within her home state) and character (if ever a state was full of characters, it's Louisiana). In describing this small town beauty shop (called the Porch because it is, literally, built on the family's back porch), Wells perfectly captures the spirit and feel of the beauty parlor for women of all ages.

Which got me to thinking: what is it about this place, the beauty parlor, that makes it a sacred space for women? Certainly not every establishment that services hair qualifies. Suffice to say that most large-scale chains function mainly as a site of commerce for speedy and cheap service rather than as holy ground. Those are mere hair-cutting stores. But true beauty parlors still exist, those that feed the soul as well as set the hair, and not just in small towns.

Part of the beauty shop appeal is surely the ability to get together with other women, though men are sometimes allowed in (and small children, as my sons have learned). There is also an intimacy to the process of taking care of someone's hair, or even doing a manicure or pedicure. It involves the human touch and a certain amount of trust on the part of the client. Perhaps that is why so many women feel comfortable sharing information with their hairdresser, even personal details they might not share with anyone else. For women who establish a routine with a stylist, the relationship becomes personal. They have regular get togethers, sometimes as often as once a week, that rival any other friendships. It usually provides a relaxing break from other responsibilities, a time in which the client can "let her hair down," both literally and figuratively.

When I completed my first novel a few months ago, the first person I asked to read it was my hairdresser. I have been going to her for several years now. She works in a family-owned shop located in a building that was once a house and still looks like it. If you drop into the shop at certain times, you are sure to see "the regulars," like the Thursday morning crowd that gathers every week at 10 a.m. Through them I have learned more about public opinions, local news, and popular culture than I often do from the daily newspaper.

My hairdresser is not a professional writer, but rather a prolific reader and honest evaluator of written works. Age and gender-wise, she also fits the demographic of my target readership. I am not the first writer whose work she has evaluated. In a town full of artists, she has become a savvy first reader. A screenplay she reviewed for another client has been optioned and is in now in pre-production. For many years the late, great Molly Ivins was a client. This lady has serviced some talented heads. If we trust her with our heads, we can trust her with our work. She has a wisdom and insight that comes from years of living and interactions with the human race. It is that wisdom and insight that we seek from her during our visits, like spiritual pilgrims beckoning our sage. For our work to be acceptable, they must be blessed by passing "the beauty shop test."

In a world of cheaper and faster options, there is value in the healing, nurturing, and educational realm of the beauty shop. The sacred space that Wells describes still exists and is worth seeking out. Especially on bad hair days.

Yours in Sisterhood - VB