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Standing out.
Today a complete stranger at the farmers market recognized me by my hair. There'd been a thing with a pigeon earlier - it flew to the bike kiosk when I arrived and kept flying at my eye level as I walked from the kiosk to the feeding spot - that was already wonderful, and I've gotten used to these pigeons recognizing me. People, not so much. Especially when it wasn't in the usual context.
They were a vendor at a bread stand, but before I could order, they asked me if I lived in the neighborhood, at a certain avenue-street intersection, and I said yes, one street up but that same avenue, and they said they'd seen me at the market before but they also saw me around the neighborhood and they recognized that it was always me because of my hair.
I told them what I always tell people, that it's been about twelve years since I've had anyone else cut my hair, that I treat it gently and let it take care of itself, and I told them thank you.
Sometimes it's nice to be noticed for the right reasons.
Especially in New York City.
They were a vendor at a bread stand, but before I could order, they asked me if I lived in the neighborhood, at a certain avenue-street intersection, and I said yes, one street up but that same avenue, and they said they'd seen me at the market before but they also saw me around the neighborhood and they recognized that it was always me because of my hair.
I told them what I always tell people, that it's been about twelve years since I've had anyone else cut my hair, that I treat it gently and let it take care of itself, and I told them thank you.
Sometimes it's nice to be noticed for the right reasons.
Especially in New York City.
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