Hair Ye, Hair Ye…


I played Hairdo Dolly yesterday.

My colorist moved from New York City to Los Angeles.

Note the “my colorist”…we are so possessive of our treasured beauticians.

Anyway, the masked mane maven made a house call, bringing everything needed for a perfect head of hair.

Isolated in Coronaville I questioned whether I still possessed my publicist skills to make conversation for multiple hours with someone other then my husband.

We fell right back into a comfortable conversation.

We wore masks the entire time and played beauty salon outside as the fog dissipated and the sun, accompanied by a gentle breeze, made the appointment way more pleasant then being shoehorned into a cramped corner at Sally Hershberger Salon.

I am glossed and my highlights make me look years younger…that’s in Corona years.

I need to plan an outdoor patio masked ball to show off my gorgeous hair…looking so fine and nowhere to go.

My husband David always knows that he has to take my lovely locks out every time I rendezvous with Hairdo David.

Alas, that option has dried up in Coronaville.

Anyway, David lightened up my life.

He has the Mane Midas Touch and you don’t even need to leave home to get gorgeous.

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