Elegance in Motion and Eternal Patience

May 20, 2010

There's our apartment...#19

In the morning, we left the apartment in a hurry to walk the 20-minute distance to the hair salon.  As we stepped out onto the street, I turned back to lock the door with our skeleton key and discovered that the key I thought we had simply misplaced the night before had inadvertently remained in the outside door lock.  All night.  Mamma mia.  My heart stopped for a moment as I processed the implications… and the kids (who beg to take turns unlocking the door) all pointed fingers at each other in an attempt to assign blame.  I gratefully threw a prayer of thanks heavenward and mind-embraced the bevy of guardian angels protecting us on our travels, and off we went. 

We arrived at the salon at exactly 9 a.m., even after a quick stop at a bakery en route.  Mine was the first appointment of the day, so the salon was quiet and empty; Luca was there waiting for us, along with his charming business partner, Marco.  They greeted us warmly, like old friends.  In his heavily accented English, Luca gushed, “This salon is my house.  My house is your house.  Your kids are my kids.” and they promptly got to work making the kids comfortable in a makeup room for their morning of movie-watching.  Seriously.  Unbelievable.  

Reyna was thrilled with their room assignment.  “We LOVE makeup!” she said, beaming.  The maternal red flags were a-flying, but I ignored them and left my 6- and 7-year-old girls to test their willpower in the face of temptation (under Cade’s capable supervision).  My computer went on a table against the wall, and three new upholstered chairs were lined up in a tight fit across the curtained room entrance.  I hoped for the best as they happily settled in to enjoy the new (to them!) American movies I had downloaded from iTunes the night before.

“Dee choler hIeey lieeekke.  Buot dee totall heeeffect hIeey do not lieekke.”  It was an honest appraisal, and I suddenly felt self-conscious.  After all, I’d been seen gallivanting all over central Europe with this "totall heeeffect."  But I could see his point, which was that the layers in my hair cut my appearance up into horizontal lines:  chin, shoulders, bust, hips.  We talked for a moment about his vision for my new Italian makeover.  I cannot claim to have been surprised that an Italian man thought I should go blonder and keep my hair long, but in the spirit of hair adventurism, I had been prepared to mix it up a bit and go darker and shorter.  (I like being blond, so I was much more relieved than disappointed.)  And when he announced that my look was to be “elegance in motion,”  I wasn’t sure what it meant, but it sounded promising so I jumped on board.

At first, there was a lot of talking as he efficiently painted shades of blond on tiny sections of my hair and folded up the long foil strips.  I learned that Luca “is all about the client,” and his art.  That he needs Marco to keep the business side of the salon in check.   His town is not Florence;  his town is the world.  He learned all of his English from watching television.  He likes American women like me because we are “simple; not too much…” followed by a lot of hand waving, which I assumed referred to the traits of the rather complex-looking Italian women I later saw at the salon.  I decided to take that as a compliment.  He is very passionate about his feelings and his opinions and his work.  He is meticulous and a perfectionist, and tells me that while most hairdressers work with two colors, he does three.  While they work with four techniques, he does five.  But I soon discovered that each time I asked a question, he paused his work to think about how to answer in English…  and then, because he is Italian, he needed to gesture with his hands while he answered.   So after the first hour, I stopped asking so many questions.  After all, I only had five hours' worth of movies for the kids!

Anyone that walked through the door was greeted with a chorus of “Ciao” and “Buon giorno” from half a dozen people in the salon.  And there was lots of cheek-kissing and animated gossiping and story-telling.  It was fun to be a part of the friendly scene instead of just an outside observer.

I have quite a head of hair, and with all the talking and the translation-charades and the hand gestures and the distractions and the 3-color, 5-technique process, the kids were already into movie #3 by the time we were haircut-ready.  (And they were not complaining about it one bit!)  The Italians never seem to be in a hurry, but Luca had spent three generous hours with me and with other clients waiting, he handed me over to his well-trained assistant, Serenella, to complete the job. 

As I finally went to retrieve my all-but-forgotten children, they begged me to let them stay and finish the last twenty minutes of their movie, so I retreated back into the salon to watch some more high maintenance in action.  Then we left in the midst of our own chorus of arrivedercis, ciaos, and an exchange of e-mail addresses, along with my promise to give some serious thought to commuting to Florence on a regular basis for my hair appointments.  As for the elegance in motion… I was feeling it, and it felt fabulous.

I took my patient and hungry children to Gustopanini for lunch “to go,” which consisted of delicious foccaccia and Panini sandwiches.  Then, suddenly realizing our time in Florence was coming quickly to an end, we headed off to the Galleria dell’ Accademia to see Michelangelo’s world-famous David statue in person. 

I have enjoyed learning about the famous Michelangelo.  In spite of the fact that he might have lacked certain social skills or personal hygiene habits, he was an absolute genius at his craft.  And although he allegedly had a bit of an ego, I think one has to admire the fact that he recognized his talent... recognized that it was God-given… and that he had to do the work to make something of it.  He is quoted as saying that “genius is eternal patience.”  I love that, although (as my kids can attest) it almost certainly means that I will always fall short…

In 1501, 26-year-old Michelangelo was granted the commission to take a leftover block of marble called “The Giant” (which had previously been worked on by other artists) and complete the goliath-sized statue of the biblical hero.  He was already a renowned sculptor, having recently completed the Pieta.  For more than two years, he worked on the 17-foot-tall statue, “carving to set him free.”  (He was known for saying that “every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.”) 

It is arguably the most famous and most recognizable statue in the world.  We had seen a replica of the David in a square elsewhere in Florence and that almost seemed sufficient, but it seemed a pity to be so close and not see the original.  It was an hour or so before closing, so lines were unusually short and we walked directly in to see the key attraction.   I myself was mesmerized by the marble statue and its exquisite detail, but it was my children (the ones with the shortened attention spans) who insisted on remaining in the hall and staring at the statue for a full half an hour.  I cannot quite explain why, although I can say that I’m fairly certain that the nakedness was not a key factor.  :)  It was extraordinary, and sitting there in the gallery was an incredible and oddly emotional experience for all of us.  It was enough to make me, a conscientious rule-follower by nature, employ the camera function of my iPhone and surreptitiously steal a few forbidden photos in order to document the moment.  

We took our time to get home that evening.  We walked the streets of Florence, visiting the Duomo again, stopping for a ride on the carousel in a public square, and picking up some souvenirs.  We felt comfortable and at home, and we didn’t need our map anymore to find our way back to our apartment… which simply meant our week there was quickly coming to an end and it was almost time to move on.