Observational Essay: Day of Beauty School

“Beauty school drop-out, no graduation day for you. Beauty school drop-out, missed your midterms and flunked shampoo.” The famous song from the musical Grease gave the original perception that students of beauty school had little to offer and were not cut out for the real world. Unfortunately, Grease was wrong, and cosmetology students have better opportunities than university students when it comes to careers and they are not taking the easier path through higher education, as I discovered when I went to observe Ashley Tedesco, a cosmetology student at the Littleton Academy of Hair Design.

Walking up to the small white brick building, you would never expect to discover twenty or thirty giggling girls learning the fine art of creating beauty in others. The conspicuous building off of Powers Street in down town Littleton provides students with an opportunity to learn hair techniques, how to apply acrylic nails, perform facials and other beauty services. As someone who knows very little about beauty rituals, watching a typical day at the beauty school became rather informative and revealing.

Inside, a client is greeted by a receptionist sitting behind a desk holding a shampoo display, and accented by a neon purple wall holding the portrait of an ideal woman in 1985. The brightly lit, long room reveals two opposing walls lined with mirrors decorated with each individual girl’s names and personal photos with black salon chairs in front of the mirrors. Beneath the mirrors are counters holding styling tools such as curling irons and hair dryers. The smell of chemicals needed for performing permanents, high lights and full colors, for creating acrylic nails and cleaning instruments is everywhere. You feel like you might get dizzy if you stay to long, but soon you get used to the scents and you quickly forget them. As I sat in the black, vinyl, swivel chair that usually holds a client, I began asking my first questions of the student I was watching.

“Yea, we do actually take real classes, such as anatomy and electricity, because as someone who is working on the human body, we need to know how it works and the equipment we work with.”

This is evidenced by the anatomy book seen peeking out of a black school bag labeled “Tennessee School of Beauty”, the previous school Ashley had attended. The common perception of beauty school students held by traditional university students is that they are lazy and taking the easier path to a career. No one would expect to hear that these girls are expected to take biology classes and other difficult subjects.

“I have homework at least three nights a week and I have to pass my classes with at least a B.”

Of course, the expected courses exist as well, such as hair cutting and coloring classes. In a little room in the back of the building, several girls were practicing applying acrylic nails on “sugar hands”, latex gloves filled with sugar and used to mimic the human hands they will someday be working on. Heads of mannequins are scattered around the building, with various hair colors and cuts, a display of the practice that is ongoing in the school when clients are scarce.

Slowly, clients start trickling in and begin their appointments with the different girls on the floor. Down in the basement the rest of the girls are still taking classes and practicing with instructors. An older woman with red hair and gray roots sits down at Ashley’s station, and instructs her on the way she wants her hair dyed, while Ashley tries to explain that the style she wanted wasn’t possible with the way it was presently. Finally, an instructor, Chanda, comes over and begins explaining to the client exactly what Ashley was saying not a moment before. This time, the woman listens and Chanda begins helping Ashley mix the color formula behind the sinks for washing hair. As Ashley begins applying the color mixture to the woman’s roots with a wide bristle brush, her teacher Chanda observes and gives instruction when it is needed or Ashley asks for it. Eventually, Ashley takes over and Chanda runs off, laughing loudly and making jokes with the rest of the girls. Ashley’s client sits silently, never attempting to make conversation with Ashley, who doesn’t mind.

“I am usually concentrating too much to talk to the clients, unless they are my friends, then I feel more comfortable and can chat a little bit.”

Finally, Ashley finishes applying the color to the woman’s hair and provides her with a magazine as she waits for the color to set so she can finish the appointment. The school’s mascot, an elderly woman with reddish-purple hair and black tips named Rosie, walks around making small talk with the girls and helping Ashley clean up. She stops to talk to us, making gossip about other girls in the school who she clearly doesn’t think very well of, but making us all laugh all the same. For the next twenty-five minutes, Ashley sits next to me and gossips about other girls, what she thinks about them, and what she plans to do next when she graduates in April. The pace of the school seems to be slower than regular college, and pretty laid back. Students can sit around and talk, or just practice various techniques without much stress.

The time comes around to rinse the client’s hair of the color mixture and to give her a new cut and style. Ashley proves to be meticulous with her shampooing; making absolutely sure all of the color is out, then washing the hair twice with almond scented shampoo. She gently massages the head, almost putting the woman to sleep, and then rinses the conditioner out to begin the final step. Before she is allowed to cut anything, an instructor must be called over to approve of the process and discover how the student intends to proceed. Once the procedure is approved, Ashley begins snipping away, constantly concentrating on her movements and actions, the picture of a perfectionist. Once again the woman makes no conversation, until Ashley finishes blow drying and styling her hair, and the woman says a quick “thank you” and walks off to pay the receptionist. Ashley rolls her eyes and gives me a look of relief, and begins sweeping the floor of the hair lying around, deprived of a head to belong to. It’s been a long day, and she looks glad to be leaving. But she does say she enjoys her days at the academy and is excited to start her career in a few months.

Stepping out of the building into the evening sun, I feel as if I have seen another speed of life, a speed where a career is practically guaranteed and hard work is still expected. These girls are following a passion and are learning through experience, which can prove to more valuable at times than a certain amount of classes.