Buffed and Tweaked for Dear St. Patrick

Feeling my hair had started resembling the fur of a Cocker Spaniel, I decided it was time to get a haircut. I booked appointments with some friends at the Velvet Spa. They were accommodating in our late arrival (gee thanks Google Maps) and provided us with fruit in addition to the spread of goodies we brought. 

When you hang with us, you won't go hungry.

Ahh. Scalp Love.

Getting slightly suspicious
about hearing Moon River. Again.

Only one person per treatment meant we'd be alternating in the waiting room, but we were serenaded with the cycling of 80's jazz, classical, and crooner set mixes. As the esthetician slathered thick, moisturizing cold cream on my face, I had goosebumps; but they actually came from the smooth jams of George Michael. 

With my skin nicely greased, it was time for my hair cut. What to do, what to do? I had so many options, but in the end entertained my cute barber by letting her cut some fringe (aka bangs) and try to style my curls, an apparent rarity in Romania. Well, she tried.

Fonda circa 1983?

Sheep dog fringe?

Kim with her sexy sleek 'do.
Me, with my frizzed bob, ready for my close up.

Fresh Feet!

Overall, the afternoon was a wonderful escape. I kindly suggested to the owner that she consider "spicing up" her music, after complimenting her staff on their attentiveness.  But I don't think she heard me over my hair. Go figure.