Two doors down from Vinnie’s, Paul’s hair salon functioned as another social gathering place. Brilliantly lit and reeking of perm solution and hair spray, Paul’s vibrated at a frenetic frequency created by the endlessly ringing telephone, the droning of the hair dryers, and the sloshing and spraying at the shampoo sinks. Then there was the routine shouting, necessary to be heard over the din or when an argument was going on.
Mr. Paul, a tall, slim, older gentleman with thick, silver-gray hair and moustache, wore dark-rimmed glasses and perfectly pressed pinstriped shirts. His trousers were similarly pressed, with a razor-sharp crease down the front. Mr. Paul found favor particularly with older women. Young children liked him, too.
Maria, petite and slender with Mediterranean-toned skin, moved briskly and efficiently, her espresso-colored, shoulder-length hair swinging luxuriously with every turn of her head. She had no time for small talk, but when she did speak her words flowed melodiously with a subtle accent of Italy. With total concentration Maria focused on the task at hand, whether it was trimming, rolling, teasing, waxing, or tweezing. Teen and preteen girls particularly liked Maria, and many from the other generations requested her as well.
Mr. Victor, Paul’s son, completed the staff. Fiftyish, portly, and shorter than his father, with thinning hair and a serious demeanor, Mr. Victor captured the “dad” image that eluded his father. Like Maria, smiles rarely crossed his face, but his manner was courtly and pleasant. His clients included children, the matronly, and the elderly.
Paul’s catered to females of all generations. In the 1960s, women of near-middle age and older had their hair “done” once a week, filling the styling stations that faced the wall of mirrors, then moving to the bank of hooded hair dryers at the opposite wall. Younger women, teens, and children came for haircuts, then those of preteen age and older went home to manage the styling themselves. Everyone possessed the necessary equipment, available inexpensively at Woolworth’s: curlers in a range of sizes, bobbie pins to secure them, hairclips for creating pin curls, a portable bonnet-style hair dryer, a teasing comb, and the indispensable can of hair spray. By the 1970s, teens and younger women had replaced all their hair paraphernalia with one single essential item—the blow dryer—as they shifted from weekly wash and sets to daily shampooing and blow drying.
But back in the 1960s, if these younger girls and women were preparing for a special event like a wedding, the prom, a bat mitzvah, or the eighth-grade graduation dance, then they too would get their hair “done.” This meant enduring the laborious wash, set, and sweltering stint under the dryer, followed by the unraveling of the curlers, the comb-out, the teasing, the anchoring of the up-do (if that was the style chosen), the clouds of hairspray, the mandatory presentation of a hand mirror with which to admire the back and sides of the head.
Middle-aged and older women frequently came for perms, although sometimes a mother would request one for her young daughter. Anyone coming for a perm planned ahead, knowing they would be sitting in Paul’s for up to five hours or more. Not only was the process itself a long one (washing, rolling, applying the eye-smarting perm solution, neutralizing, setting, drying…) but the stylist squeezed in other clients during stage transitions. The only stage that had to be attended to exactly on time was the rinsing or neutralizing of the perm solution before damage could be done. Aside from that, it was wait…wait…wait.
Most styles of the 1960s required a wash and set only, not a perm. In one popular style called the Artichoke, hair was cut very short in the back. Longer hair at the crown was set on large rollers. Wisps of hair at either side of the face were wound into pin curls at ear level. After drying, the hair was then teased (also known as backcombed) to a great height. Full or side bangs completed the look. This helmet-like creation, lacquered into preservation with billows of hair spray, lasted the entire week if the person under the helmet took precautions when sleeping or showering.
Similar lacquering attended other styles as well because of the teasing that created the bouffant (high on the head, full at the sides) look. For jaw-length hair, many older women favored the style similar to the one Queen Elizabeth has worn for years—off the forehead with softly curled ends. Height and fullness varied according to personal preference.
Younger women with longer hair wore it teased on top with the ends flipped up. Sometimes they opted for the French twist, where hair would be teased for height at the crown, then blended into the rest of the hair and rolled sideways into a long bun in the back. For the beehive, another ubiquitous style, hair at the crown was elevated to unnatural heights, often with the help of an insertable hair piece. An optional French twist could be fashioned from the hair left hanging down the back.
Most Eastchester Road stores were in-and-out places. You got what you went for and left. But like Vinnie’s candy store, Paul’s was a place you wanted to visit. Something good happened to you there, whether it was getting a cream soda or an attractive new hairstyle. You looked forward to sitting and staying, all the while absorbing the atmosphere, catching snippets of conversations, and taking in those fascinating stories of life that traveled through the neighborhood grapevine.
© Barbara Cole 2020. All Rights Reserved.