THE MOD SHAG AFRO

Remember - this is July,  1976. Elizabeth, NJ

I have just revealed (told) to Esperanza that I am, indeed, Sicilian - not Puerto Rican.

Suddenly, another loud clatter emerges among the ladies in the salon, and this kind of tongue rolling sound.

   “Oooh - Siciliano! Mafioso...muy peligroso! Cuidado Esperanza!”

I feel my face flush - really red  - and hot. Esperanza laughs, and shushes them.

     “Oh, pobracito! El esta muy nervioso.”

She touches my face, caressing it with her fingers.

       “ Ay, so smooth... you don’t shave yet, papi?”

       “Um - yeah! I mean - I shave...I just shaved this morning!’ I shoot back defensively.

More tittering from the salon ladies. Esperanza is smiling, looking me up and down. I feel my knees buckling.

          “What did you say your name was, baby?”

          “Um - Joe-”

          “Oh - Joe! You mean like - Jose, right? How old are you, Jose?” She purrs.

          “Um - seventeen”- I blurt out, even though I just really turned 16 about three months ago.

          “Oh, Dios Mio! Diecesiete?! Tu eres saltacuna, Esperanza! Cuidado!”

Esperanza looks amused, as she pinches my face.

          “Hmmm....you sure you are seventeen, Jose?

I just stand there - not knowing what to say. I’m busted.

          “That’s ok - you got a cute face.”

I just gulp and get redder.

          “Jose? You want me to give you a haircut? I’ll make you look so good.”

I just smile. What could I even say? This is developing into some kind of fantasy now.

          “You don’t got no kind of style wit’ your hair, baby.”

She’s right. My hair is just a formless mess of crazy curls, which had suddenly transformed from straight hair in the past year.

           “C’mon, Joselito, I’m gonna fix you up.”

 She takes my hand and leads me to a chair, then takes off my glasses. The hated Benjamin Franklin glasses that I’ve been wearing since sixth grade. How embarrassing! I can’t see now - I’m nearsighted. I’m at her mercy! She cuts and shapes and runs her fingers through my hair, talking to me quietly, as I sit in the chair in total disbelief. She bends over - and her tits - are in my face. Gulp. I just melt into a melange of scents, sounds and touch, until after what seems like a long time, she puts down her scissors. She fluffs up my hair here and there. She declares she is finished.

          “Oh, Jose - muy guapo.”

She turns the chair around so all the other ladies can see. The chatter resounds like a tropical jungle.

           “Le gusta?”

           “Oh, que lindo…”

         “Si, muy caliente…”

         “Ohh, muy bonito…”

I am holding my breath - I still can’t see what I look like. She looks again - but decides it needs one final touch, and takes a gold hoop earring - the clip-on type - and puts it on my ear.

         “Now papi - you be hot!”

She gives me back my glasses. I fumble with the Benjamins, anxious to be able to see again. I cannot believe what I then see in the mirror.  I look totally different. Better. Cool.

A shag afro. A mod afro shag. My first mod haircut. I am cool. 

Man, I gotta get some contact lenses.