This vignette is about one of my first experiences at the barber shop with my son. It sparked the idea for this little informal vignette series and was published, here, in the New York Times Metropolitan Diary; a happy moment for me.
It starts like this:
I stand on Henry Street in Carroll Gardens and look in. The glass door has an authentic barber-pole swirl.
As a woman, I am used to fussy appointments at hair salons, having to decide between a junior or senior stylist. But there are no appointments at Lana’s Barber Shop, and when I enter, I sit in a kind of line, a head count of who came first, who will come back later, who is in no rush, so go ahead, it’s fine.