“Nice hair…Is it real?” Oh…and Carol’s Daughter!
Friday after work, I called one of my best girls to see if she felt like hanging out after work. Gwen said she was game so I suggest Red Lobster for dinner. Since we both had things to do, we decided we’d meet at about 6:30 p.m. That later got pushed back to 7 and that’s when I suggested a different restaurant, China Buffet, which is one of my favorites.
That was even better for Gwen cause it’s closer to where she lives and she really needed to go home before she could meet up with me. Cool. I’d just head that way and wait for her at the restaurant. And when I arrived, that’s exactly what I ended up doing. That place was packed. Line was out the door and they said there was a 25 minute wait. Now in the grand scheme of life, I’ve lived in much larger cities so I know on a Friday night at a popular restaurant wait times in other places can be much longer, so to me, a nearly half-hour wait is not a big deal. But to folks here, a 25 minute wait is interpreted as eternity. One guy even looked at me and says “I hope you’re not really hungry.” I just smile cause this little wait ain’t enough to send me looking for another restaurant that’s likely to be just as crowed. So I gave the greeter my name, and commenced to waiting for a table while I waited for Gwen.
She arrived about twenty after seven, which really wasn’t bad timing cause we were seated shortly after that. But while we were waiting to be called, she looked down at my hair — I was seated and she was standing behind me — and said “Nice hair…. is it real?”
I turned around and glance up at her with a questioning look on my face. She just smiled and chuckled and judging by my expression she said, “I guess not.”
At first I turned away. I’m wearing my hair in a high pony made with a make shift bandette comb that I fashioned myself. It creates an awesome high ponytail, which looks so thick and full. I love it. It’s absolutely gorgeous if I may say so myself, but I never thought it looked fake. Also, you gotta know that she’s seen me do my hair, and has also helped me dye it. So she knows how much hair I have, hence the reason for my confusion and puzzlement. This makes me turn back around, and look up at her and ask if she’s serious. “Does my hair really look fake?” I ask.
She chuckles again. “Yeah…seriously,” she says. “It must be the way you made it, but yeah, it looks like you have attached hair. Now the light bulb comes on above my head because I get it now. “Ah…hmmm…,” I say. “That’s funny. It’s interesting that you would ask me that because most of the time on anyone else it probably would be fake. We’re so used to seeing women with fake hair, that when we see someone with long, thick hair, we assume that it’s probably a wig or an attachment.” She nods her head in agreement as I continue. “So it’s hard to image that the hair we see could possibly be real.”
“Exactly, that’s it exactly,” she says. And before we could continue the conversation, they call my name and we’re off to be seated.
Once we get our food and settle down to eat, we had a lot of fun catching up on this and that. Food was great too. As I was going back to the buffet, I couldn’t help but notice a little black girl, maybe about nine or so with bone straight hair. As she stood in front of me filling her plate, I was looking down at her and I couldn’t help but notice how horribly eaten out her edges were and her hair, although kinda long, her ponytail was dry and brittle. Poor thing, I bet she had a beautiful head of hair once, before the chemical monster got a hold to it. Whomever is doing her hair is surely over processing it, and it won’t be long I thought before all this child’s hair is broken off to nothing.
I shake my head to clear that image from my mind, get some more food and head back to my table. Just as I was about to dig into my crab legs, that same little girl walked past me, prompting me to remark to my friend what I’d just seen.
“That just kills you doesn’t it,” Gwen says. Yes it does I tell her. And this prompts a round of story telling about hair. We talk about her hair and my hair. And, because she’s the principal at a grade school, she we talk about her “kid’s” hair. Then our conversation turns to products and that’s when she tells me that she loves going to a shop at the mall near her home to buy stuff for her hair.
“I’m such a product junkie. Have you heard of Carol’s Daughter? There’s this shop called Sephora and they carry it.” I shake my head but this time in disbelief. Did I hear what I think I just heard? Someone here actually sells Carol’s Daughter? I lean in and ask her to repeat herself. “Who sells Carol’s Daughter?”
“Sephoras,” she says. “They carry the full line of all her bath, body and hair products.” Ok…now I’m no longer interested in what’s on my plate cause I wanna go there…NOW. “What time is it? I ask.
“It’s about 8:09.”
“Can we get there before it closes?” I ask. She nods yes. “Let’s go,” I say excitedly. “I’ll leave my car here so we can go in one car.” And with that, we pay our check and we’re off.
We get there at about 8:30. Luckily, we quickly find a good parking space, and before I know it, I’m in Sephora’s. “It’s all the way in the back of the store,” Gwen says. So that’s where I head.
When I get back there, I’m in seventh heaven. Mainly because I’ve always wanted to try her products, but I’m cheap. Too cheap to pay for the product AND pay for shipping and handling. And what’s more, all the product has little “Try Me” stickers on them allowing me to sample before making a purchase. That’s perfect for me because of my perfume allergies, and as I’m sniffing this and that, it dawns on me that I’m tolerating this store fairly well, given that there are scented products all around me. Unfortunately, certain scents can send my alergies into overdrive rather quickly, and it’s the reason I can’t go into stores like Bath and Body Works and the Body Shop. Just walking past these stores or even perfume counters in department stores can make my eyes burn and give me an instant splitting headache. And in close quarters to someone wearing certain scents, my allergies mimic a severe cold or the flu, making eyes burn and causing me to sneeze uncontrollably. This has happened on a couple of occasions. One time I was at work and discovered I was severely allergic to some Bath and Body works scented hand sanitizer that someone was using. I was so miserable that I got up my nerve to ask this lady not to use it at work anymore. I mean, shoot, I even offered to buy her some nonscented hand sanitizer. She refused my offer while being nice enough to oblige. And another time at a packed church on Easter Sunday, I was sitting next to this lady who kept fanning herself. Every time she’d fan, I felt like I was coming down with a excruciating cold. Since there was standing room only, I ended up sitting in the hall and missing the entire service.
Yeah…that’s how bad my allergies can get. Most of the time I haven’t a clue what scent I’m allergic to, I just know that whatever I smell, I can’t tolerate it. But there are most definitely two scents that I know I can’t stand and that’s patchouli and cedarwood. And as I’m reading labels, two of the products that I would have very interested in had these dreaded ingredients — The Healthy Hair Butter and the Loc Butter. Although oily, it was very light so I was willing the be open minded about my first Carol’s Daughter purchase. But with those to scents in them, it wasn’t meant to be.
Damn, damn damn!
Since I prefer products that are more moisturizing than oily, my options were getting pretty limited. That’s when I discovered the Hair Milk. When I sniffed it, the scent was very light. I put some on my finger tip, I loved the moisturizing feel of it with only a hint of oil. Hmmm… could this be my find? I decided to take down one of my twists and try it out. I loved it. It instantly revived my coils on the end my twist. So I decided the Hair Milk would go home with me tonight.
Then I sampled the Mimosa Hair butter. Alrighty then. Although chock full of oils, it was very light. Loved the scent too. Tried it out on my hair and I liked the sheen. Dang, now I’m kinda torn between the two. Hair Milk or the Mimosa. In the end, the Hair Milk won out.
So by closing time, I was such a happy camper. So much so, instead of going home, me and Gwen decided a hair session was in order so I could try out my new product. With her husband out of town, this was a perfect time to have a session and watch a movie. And that’s exactly what we did. So stay tuned for Part II so I can give you the scoop and the verdict on the Hair Milk.
But in the meantime, if you’ve got a favorite or not so favorite Carol’s Daughter product you’d like to share, please do so cause I’d love to hear about your experiences with her line.