Studio Cim Mahony

Studio Cim Mahony.jpg

STUDIO CIM MAHONY
Bredgade 4, 2 TV
1260 København K
T. +45.31.90.17.54


Since we started making semi-annual trips to Denmark, I've been holding off on all visits to randomly researched hair salons in the States to get my hair properly cut and colored at Studio Cim Mahony. From what I learned following Emily Weiss' Instagram, she trusts her hair with only Cim Mahony himself and will fly from New York to Copenhagen just for an appointment. Now, if that's not a true testament to the man and his salon, I don't know what is!

Because it’s located in an upscale apartment, being a client here is akin to visiting the chicest person you can imagine and then having that person give you VIP service. Everything here is tastefully selected down to the teacup from which you're sipping some exotic tea. I'm always bowled over by the unusual floral arrangements. It's Cim's ethos come to life. 

I prefer private hair salons because there's a certain level of attention provided that you can't find at the big-name salons. (In other words, it's not listed on Yelp.) There's a sense of calm and focus in this sort of environment. No crazy commotions. Your one stylist does it all, from greeting you at the door to shampooing to putting on the finishing touches. 

While Cim's services are privy only to an exclusive set, his team of highly trained and experienced experts are available to "everyone else". And, boy, do they know how to transform hair into what it was always meant to be: healthy, effortless, and meant to suit your face and lifestyle. I've seen a couple of different stylists  in the salon previously but was particularly happy with my recent experience with Sarah Kjærsgaard Sørensen. She has an anti-trendy philosophy in regards to hair, which is common amongst Danish hairdressers in general, but what I really appreciated was that she took her time to get to know my hair history and understood the difficulties I encountered in the past. European women, she explained, don't style their hair with heated tools as is done the U.S. so it's crucial to get the right cut where the mane of hair lays correctly on its own.

I'd banned myself from any trims or salon visits the past seven months, so my ends were raggedy and my old highlights looked brassy. When I came in, I had about five inches of black roots showing, but my color now looks like someone flipped the light switch on from within. Sarah started by weaving in babylights (super thin highlights) throughout my hair and lifted the color two shades up from its natural base for a subtle and soft effect. Then, she gave it a blunt, one-length cut all around so that it has more of a swingy-ness to it. The whole appointment took a surprising four hours from start to finish–and, yes, it was expensive–but, considering the amount of bad haircuts I've suffered in my life, the time and financial investment is totally worth it.

Here's a little Before/After pic:

  *I added the waves myself with ghd's Creative Curl Wand.

*I added the waves myself with ghd's Creative Curl Wand.

 

 

 

 

Let the Night Stay Young

Tom Wesselman.jpg

After spending a full day perusing booths and booths of international galleries at Art Basel last weekend, we were invited to a group dinner in the old town of Basel. The pleasant summertime temps and lingering daylight were further enjoyed by the fact that we were dining al fresco in a cobblestoned square surrounded by quaint Swiss buildings. It was, by all measures, a perfectly fine gathering. There was a mix of familiar faces as well as new–exhibitors (them) and spectators (us). The conversations ambled along in an entertaining enough manner yet marked with the expected distance of a professional tone. As the evening winded down, everyone gently indicated in their own way that it was time to return to their hotels.

"I have to pack for my flight in the morning."

"I've had a long week."

"It was so busy today. I can't wait to go back and decompress." 

But, then, somebody decided to strike that dreadful, off-key chord: 

"Wait, let's get a nightcap after this! C'mon, we're in Basel! Let's check out the scene! Where should we go?"

Cue the silent groans and grumbling heard 'round the table–all except by the perpetrator, of course.

Some nights are ripe for spontaneous extensions into the wee hours of the morn; others, however, are not. The key in distinguishing between the two involves being highly attuned to the underlying vibes of the people around you. Don't be the oddball who, after a lovely dinner, insists on one more nightcap when the group is clearly ready to call it a night. (The absolute worst suggestion I've encountered is when someone desperately tried to round a group into going to a karaoke bar.) This will only lead the evening into inevitable decay.

You'll find that the people to whom you said "It was nice meeting you" at the end of dinner have now become–to your dismay–the people you never ever ever want to meet again. And by this point, they're asking for your contact info.

Trust me, the best thing to do is depart on the heels of the night's crescendo. Abandon any fear of missing out and leave on a high note. Preserve whatever mystery was in the air. You don’t have to become new besties with the person who sat across from you. In most cases, it's best to let the night stay young.

In Search for the Perfect Response

 
  Untitled  by Martin Kippenberger (1990)

Untitled by Martin Kippenberger (1990)

Last week, I found myself in a bit of a pickle. I had to pick up a few packages from the post office, but none of the parking spots nearby were open. It was drizzly and I didn't want to carry an armful of boxes in the rain.

My eyes settled on the handicap parking spot across the street, clearly painted blue with a handicap sign posted in front of it. I'll just park there and do a quick in-and-out, I reasoned. I figured it'd take no more than five minutes. So, I parked the Jeep, ran across the street, asked for my packages and ran back out. 

As I was packing the backseat of the car, I noticed an old woman staring at me from her parked car. I hurried along and ran to the driver's door. 

"You're parked in the handicap spot! Can't you read?!" she screamed at me. 

"Yes, I'm just about to leave," I said, flustered. 

"You've been parked there for a while!" she screamed back angrily, "Next time, READ!"

Her car screeched off. 

The level of hostility that was spewed at me in that brief moment shocked me to the core. I mean, it really disturbed me. It continued to bother me for the next hour or so as I drove. 

What a mean old lady, I thought. If the situation were flipped, would I have behaved the same toward her? Certainly not. And, given the chance, how should I have responded? "Sorry you're having a bad day"? That would've been patronizing and sarcastic. No, no, I wasn't prepared enough for a response. It was probably a blessing that I was bewildered and tongue-tied.

I had a stomachache the whole time I thought about it. Her message was indeed warranted–her delivery of it, however, was not.  Don't let this ruin your day, I told myself. Nothing that came through my mind made me feel any better. I just couldn't fathom directing that sort of anger towards a complete stranger. After being involved in that awful exchange, I had an even stronger conviction never to inflict such a behavior on anyone else. It was the ultimate reminder that, while you can never control the circumstances, you can always control how you react to it. Eventually, as I went about my errands, the angst subsided. 

As I got back into the car to drive home, I thought about it again. Truth was, I knew I shouldn't have parked in the handicap spot. I could've parked further away and walked to the post office. Maybe she was handicapped and I had robbed her of her spot.

Then, the perfect disarming response came to me.

I should've said: "You're right. I'm sorry. Thank you for pointing that out. I'll be more aware next time."