Recession be damned...

Ann here...
Y'know how some women out there spend the Gross National Product of Chad on shoes? And other women hoard handbags and cats? I'm one of those women, yes, me, who spends $40 on a bottle of shampoo.

Because of the holiday crushing into my deadlines at work, I couldn't go to the salon this week to pick up my purple Rene Furterter. I actually had to use *brrr* DOMESTIC shampoo, bought at a grocery store! It's horrible. I might as well have used dishwashing liquid, or some leftover Hartz Flea and Tick bath. How do people live this way?

To undo the damage from three days of what feels to me like acid crisping through the delicate cuticle of each and every hair of my head, I am going to book a Shu Uemura Art Of Hair Beauty Ceremony, I don't give Hell's bells what it costs.

Now, men, take note. Watch that little Flash movie of the guy massaging the girl's head. (Personally, I only let men work on my hair. Women just, well, meh.) That whole massage, THIS is why men make the big bucks in salons. That sort of gesture is perhaps the only physical expression of tenderness a client could have in her life, and she will pay dearly for it. The fact that someone has ritualized a half hour of indulgence around the friggin' Tea Ceremony is genius. I can't wait!