Sneak Peak
Chapter 1: A Gift in the Basement
In the heart of Detroit, on Prairie Street, lies the place where my journey as a hair stylist began – the basement of our family home. It was a modest house, filled with love and creativity. My parents, Gwendolyn and Harvey Gardner, each possessed their own unique talents, and it was from their union that I inherited my destiny.
My mother, Gwendolyn, was a remarkable hairstylist. She had the hands of an artist and the soul of a healer. Her clients adored her, not just for her skill but for the genuine care she put into every cut, every curl, every conversation. She was so gifted that she had once been offered a prestigious job with Ultra Sheen, a name synonymous with excellence in the world of African American haircare. However, her unwavering commitment to her family prevailed, and she chose not to embark on a career that would have taken her away from us, serving as a brand ambassador on the road.
My sister Judy, too, possesses the gift of transforming hair, yet she never pursued it professionally. She often told me that she lacked the patience required for the trade, though her innate talent was undeniable.
My father, Harvey, was a creative force in his own right. He was a true jack-of-all-trades, capable of cooking up gourmet meals, building cars from the ground up, and mastering skills in plumbing, carpentry, and electrical work. He was my role model for fearlessly pursuing his passions, and he saw in me the same creative spark that had driven my mother.
I was just sixteen at the time, and the idea of becoming a hair stylist had never crossed my mind. It was as if the universe had conspired to nudge me onto this path. One particular incident is etched vividly in my memory. A girl who lived across the street, whose name escapes me but whose face I can still see in old photographs, frequently complimented me on my hair. Her words of admiration were always met with my humble gratitude, for I had never placed much importance on my appearance.
However, I couldn't ignore the damage her hair had suffered – severe breakage and bald spots from excessive hot curling and pressing. As the weekend of my junior high school picnic approached, I felt a desire to invite her to join us. But I was acutely aware of the cruelty that could be unleashed by my classmates if they saw her hair in its fragile state. So, I turned to my mother, my confidante, and mentor, for guidance......
