Her strong silver hair hasn’t been cut for years and it reached her hips. Every morning she would celebrate her female attribute and form two braids around her head to wear it like a crown. She gave birth to my father, from the day is feet touched ground he would dive into pigments, and understand the wide spectrum of possibilities, long before the word Hair colorist even existed. He marched his way through to become a pioneer of hair coloring in both Austria and France.
He had to work hard from an early age one, but the moment he felt in love with my beloved grandmother, her strength was the engine for both to work their way up from working on the fields of Austria’s countryside to establish themselves a name in Vienna. He always worked hard, but he always dressed a notch more elegant and one step ahead of all the other men.
Encouraged to make a living from his talent he became a devoted tailor. And the father of my mom who grew up to be a rebel on the stage of haircutting. She traveled the world of film, theater, opera and advertisement thanks to her gifted hands as a Hairstylist who knew no boundaries. My Father was the master of the Color and my mom the Queen of the Scissors.