Finding a great hairdresser is as important as finding a doctor—and sometimes even more difficult.
Bob and I were living in Southern California at least a zillion years ago when I found, through a number of referrals, the find of a lifetime—hairdresser to the stars, Allen Edwards. What stars, you may ask? Farrah Fawcett, to name one. Yep, Farrah and I started going to see Allen at about the same time. She was starring in the TV show Charlie’s Angels then, and had limousines transporting her, as well as “people” taking care of her every whim. 
As for me, I was driving myself 45 minutes each way (on a good day) to Beverly Hills from my law firm job in Ventura County. Each month I had to scrape enough money together to be able to afford Allen. But it was so worth it. I looked forward to each appointment and I loved every second I spent with Allen and his staff. Even I was treated like a star—totally pampered from the moment I arrived there until the moment I left. Plus, Allen Edwards knew his stuff. He was a hair genius—from color to cut to styling. He took me from a blonde to a redhead, and from having long hair to a very short, sassy style. Allen stocked only state-of-the-art products and hired only the cream of the crop to work in his salon. Allen Edwards was the best—my hair and I were secure forever. And then we moved away.
My heart was broken and my hair was scared, and my husband knew it. He let me fly back to see Allen every six weeks or so, but my flights were fogged in so often in San Francisco, those hair trips became very impractical. I was forced to find someone in Oregon. I did, and she was awful. I have the old passport picture to prove it. Thankfully, we moved again, this time to Washington, D.C., where I found someone who was okay, but no Allen Edwards. Eight years after that, we moved to Boston. You would think a swank city like Boston would have fabulous hairdressers on every corner. Well, it didn’t. I tried nearly every one of them. The first one made me cry. I wanted a bag over my head on the way home. Another could not take his eyes off of himself in the mirror, fussing with his own hair more than mine. The last one always kept me and every other client waiting at least 30 minutes so he could talk on the phone. I was so discouraged.
Naples was our next stop—first part-time and then full-time. I had to start my search over again. By now, I was totally convinced I would never again have an Allen Edwards-quality salon in my life. I tried three different salons that went from bad to terrible to horrific.
After the worst haircut in my life, a friend suggested I see Gary Harlan at ncolor {salon+boutique2}. Finally, here was the star-quality salon I thought I would never find again. From the moment I met Gary, I knew I would not have to search for one more second. I had found another hair genius who owned a magnificent salon. The products he carries are top of the line, the people he hires are top-notch, and I am treated like royalty from the moment I walk in until the moment I leave. I have been singing the praises of Allen Edwards in Beverly Hills for more than 30 years. Now I have a new song—Gary Harlan and ncolor. Thank goodness.
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