A dark-haired girl of 16 sits staring into the large mirror on the wall of the beauty parlor. Her, not much older, hair dresser stacks her long, straight hair on top of her head. With his right hand, he takes a hand full and pulls it toward the ceiling -- holding it at arms length. His left hand begins to slowly comb bits and bits of hair back down the path to her head. She silently watches the poofy pile of hair grow on her head.
It's a look Marie Antoinette would die for. But it's not the typical mall cruiser's look. Her loose brown plaid lumberjack shirt and worn blue jeans provide no clues to why she's having a make over.
An occasional head cock, as she rearranges the vantage point from which she is viewing her own, now unfamiliar self, does nothing to solve this mystery.
The hairdresser completes his mound building and steps out of the room. She lowers her eyes and quickly lifts them. She turns her head left to right and right to left. She buries her chin in her shoulder and swings her head up. Each move is reviewed in the mirror and finally a little tentative smile forms on her face.
As she prepares for another look she spies something in the mirror-- a friend. Her friend comes over and before she sits in the chair next to her, she asks, "who are you going with."
She says a name. There is a pause while all the social calculations are made. First her friend, and then both, nod with approval.
One of the other hairdressers says to his client, "Wasn't homecoming great?"
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