Crina stood at the entrance of the Bucharest college campus, gazing at the grand buildings around her. The air felt different here—fresher, more vibrant. She could already imagine the bustling college life, the young students rushing past, their faces filled with energy and excitement. The whole place was alive, a world away from her quiet little town of Hârșova, where life was slower and simpler.
For most of her life, Crina had been content in her small town, with her two light brown braids that cascaded down to her elbows, a symbol of her simplicity. The braids had been her trademark since school, a modest style tied with rubber bands and occasionally ribbons. She had never seen the need to change. But now, as she stood in the heart of Bucharest, Crina couldn’t help but notice how different the women around her looked. They wore their hair loose, some in elegant waves, others in carefree, tousled styles. Their hair flowed with effortless grace, and Crina felt the first stirrings of doubt.
“Maybe it’s time for a change,” she thought.
Her cousin Dorin, who had been showing her around, noticed her hesitation. He had been the first to comment on her braids, suggesting that she might want to update her look before college. “You don’t want to be the odd one out when you start,” he had said with a smile, knowing full well the pressures of fitting in.
Dorin was no stranger to the world of fashion. In fact, he had his own career in the industry and had even picked up some hairstyling skills along the way. He had often experimented with different styles on his friends, and he was convinced Crina needed a modern look to match the energy of the city.
As Crina wandered the shops with Dorin, she was struck by the world of beauty products that seemed to beckon to her. Lipstick, mascara, eye-liner—suddenly, it all felt like part of the transformation she was considering. She picked out a few makeup items: a pink lipstick, eye-liner, mascara, and even some brushes. And then, of course, a hairband and a set of clutches, just in case. When she returned to her aunt’s home, Crina felt both excited and nervous about the new version of herself she was about to unveil.
Back home in Hârșova, she spoke to her mother about her thoughts on changing her hair. Her mother smiled warmly and said, “You’ve grown up, Crina. You are old enough to make decisions for yourself now. Just make sure you don’t do anything too extreme.” Her mother’s reassurance made Crina feel more at ease with her decision, and she told herself that she would leave her hair loose from now on, allowing it to flow freely and naturally.
A month passed, and soon it was time to return to Bucharest to prepare for college. Dorin had kept the idea of a new haircut in his mind, and as soon as Crina stepped into his room, he suggested it once more. This time, she didn’t hesitate.
“You know,” Dorin said, running his fingers through her long braids, “You’re really going to have a hard time managing all this hair once you’re in college. I think it’s time to cut it short. Shoulder-length, maybe with some layers. What do you think?”
Crina looked at him with uncertainty. Her braids had always been part of her identity, her comfort zone. She had never seen herself with short hair, but Dorin’s suggestion began to make sense. With college life ahead, it might be easier to manage something more modern.
“Okay,” she finally said, though a part of her still hesitated.
Dorin led her to the oversized mirror in his room, the place where he had practiced countless styles on others. The room felt familiar, but today it had a different air, charged with the anticipation of a new look.
Dorin began by carefully untying Crina’s braids. As the ribbons and rubber bands slipped away, Crina’s hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, brushing against her waist. She couldn’t help but marvel at how long it had grown, almost reaching her hips. The strands were thick and wavy, with the slightest hint of shine from the sunlight streaming in through the window.
“Your hair is so long,” Dorin remarked, gently separating it into sections with clips, “but it’s going to be a lot of work for you once you start college. Trust me, shorter hair will be so much easier to manage.”
Crina nodded but still felt the weight of her decision. She only wanted a little trim, perhaps some layers, but Dorin had other plans.
Without waiting for further input, Dorin took a comb and wetted Crina’s hair, the cool mist making her shiver slightly. He sectioned her hair carefully, his hands steady, the scissors gleaming in the light. Crina couldn’t see what was happening in the front, but she could hear the soft snip of the sharp blades as they cut through her thick locks.
“Trust me, Crina,” Dorin said, his voice calm but firm. “This is going to look amazing on you.”
As he cut, Crina could feel the weight of her hair disappearing, the strands falling away with every snip. She couldn’t help but glance back at the pile of hair building up on the floor. The first few cuts didn’t bother her, but as Dorin reached the sides of her hair, large chunks of her light brown hair fell away. She gasped in surprise.
“It’s too short,” she said, her voice a little shaky.
Dorin reassured her, “It will look even better, just trust me. It’s all for the best.”
Crina was still uncertain but allowed him to continue. The scissors moved swiftly, creating layers that framed her face, and she could feel the weight of her long hair gradually lifting. When Dorin suggested adding bangs, Crina hesitated again. But then she thought about how much easier it would be to have her hair out of her eyes while studying.
“Okay,” she said, “Let’s do it.”
Dorin worked quickly, snipping away at the front, and soon her bangs were cut just above her eyebrows, giving her a fresh, modern look. Crina couldn’t help but smile when she saw her reflection in the mirror. The layers, the bangs—it was a completely new look, and yet it suited her more than she expected.
Standing in front of the mirror, Crina’s heart raced as she studied her reflection. Dorin had taken her long, heavy locks and transformed them into a heavily layered bob. The longest part of her hair barely grazed her ears, and the layers gave it a bounce and volume that felt completely new. It was striking—fresh and youthful, yet sophisticated. Her face, framed by the short, voluminous layers, felt lighter, more open. She couldn’t help but run her fingers through the layers, feeling the softness and the freedom that came with this new look.
Dorin stepped back, admiring his work. “What do you think?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
Crina turned her head, examining herself from all angles. “It’s… it’s quite short,” she admitted, a bit of disbelief still lingering in her voice. “But it looks really good. I’ve never felt so… confident.”
With her new cut, she felt as though a veil had been lifted. She didn’t feel like the shy, quiet girl from Hârșova anymore. She felt ready for something bigger, bolder.
Wanting to complete her transformation, Crina grabbed her new makeup bag from the counter and decided to try out the lipstick and other products she had bought in Bucharest. She applied a soft pink lipstick, and then gently traced her eyes with the eye-liner, accentuating the new shape of her face. The mascara added definition, making her eyes pop. Crina smiled at the results—she looked more modern, more vibrant.
She then took out her new earrings—a pair of delicate silver hoops—and slipped them into her ears. As soon as they were in place, she realized how much they complimented her new cut. The earrings highlighted the sharp angles of her jaw and the curve of her neck. The layers of her bob framed her face beautifully, drawing attention to her lips and the arch of her eyebrows. She felt, for the first time, like a woman in control of her appearance, of her own identity.
“It’s quite short,” Crina once again admitted honestly, “but I love it. I’ve never felt this good about my hair before.”
At that moment, Crina’s aunt walked into the room. She paused when she saw the floor covered in piles of light brown hair, her eyes widening in surprise, about to scold her son Dorin on what he had done.
“Good riddance!” Crina laughed, her voice full of excitement. “I’m ready for my new phase of life. Thank you, Dorin.”
Dorin smiled proudly as he cleaned up the mess, but Crina was too focused on her reflection to care. The piles of her hair on the floor no longer mattered. What mattered was the woman she had become, and the future that awaited her. Her braids were gone, disappeared somewhere on the floor. Being relieved thinking that she will no longer have to do her braids daily henceforth, she smiled once again.
As she left the room, Crina couldn’t help but feel lighter, not just in her hair but in her heart. She was no longer the simple girl from Hârșova with long, tied-up braids. She was ready for the world—and her new life in Bucharest.