Gotta look good
After more than a week in Argentina, my friend Laura and I were starting to feel a little frumpy compared to the Argentine women (and men, for that matter).
Not to mention sticky, sweaty and downright gross -- thanks to the 98 percent humidity in Buenos Aires that our Northeast-US bodies weren't accustomed to.
Our hair in perpetual ponytails, we passed one hair styling salon after another with prices that would put Cost Cutters to shame.
But we were nervous.
Neither of us have ever had much luck communicating what we want in a haircut to stylists here. Laura was concerned that the language barrier would make it impossible for her to do so in Argentina.
And what if whatever cuts we got might be trendy in Buenos Aires, but didn't translate in the US?
With a promise to interpret her every wish to her hairstylist and our fingers crossed, we chose the nicest salon we could find and walked in. Less than 45 minutes and $18 later, we walked out feeling a lot cooler and a little more stylish. We both agreed our respective haircuts were the best we had ever gotten in our lives -- not to mention the cheapest.
Good news: We finally found a hair salon to frequent.
Bad news: It's on another continent.
Such is life.
