Staying hip in Costa Rica
Te moderniza. “It modernizes you,” José said.
Leaning back on the sink’s porcelain lip, my head heavy with product, the water caressed my forehead. My young hairstylist leaning forward in a bright pink polo with the collar turned up and peg leg, black cords asked the usual, “Is the temperature ok?”
When I first met José, his faded, baggy jeans fastened at the hip and his twenty-something face didn’t inspire a lot of confidence, yet, he convinced me to put layers in my hair even though that was right up there with never getting a perm again. Afterward, walking around the city, I noticed several women with flirty, bouncy layers. I felt stylish. I mentioned this to José as I reclined, and he smiled and said, “te moderniza.”
He started to rub my eyebrows. “Do you want to dye your eyebrows?” he asked. Nobody had ever suggested that I dye my eyebrows. In fact, it had never crossed my mind. In a drawn out, falling intonation I said, “nooooh.” Curious and quick to make sure I was not missing an opportunity, I asked, “Why, do they seem dark?”
As I felt a cooling sensation above my left brown, Jose said, “Yes.” Working firm bristles through each thick brow, he continued, “It’s going to look great. They will match your chocolate-brown hair.” I guess I was also going darker.
I kept my head firm against the sink, avoiding movement for fear the mixture might slide into my eyes. When it was all over, my eyebrows did take on more prominence, highlighting my eyes, my better feature.
“Te moderniza,” Jose said.
Read about hair dresser hell in Costa Rica here.
