The African sun beat down mercilessly on Audrey’s neck as she crouched behind her telephoto lens, waiting for the perfect moment to capture a pair of crowned cranes performing their elaborate courtship dance. Sweat trickled down her temples, disappearing into her blonde hair that was pulled back into a tight, high ponytail. Her safari hat provided some shelter, but the heat trapped beneath it was becoming unbearable.
“Just one more shot,” she whispered to herself, a mantra she’d repeated countless times during her five years as a wildlife photographer in South Africa. The cranes continued their synchronized movements, oblivious to her presence in the tall grass. Audrey’s finger hovered over the shutter button, her breathing steady despite the discomfort.
After capturing the sequence she wanted, Audrey finally allowed herself to reach for her water bottle. She took a long drink before pouring a small amount over her head and face, a temporary relief from the scorching heat. As she did so, her fingers caught in the tangled, sweaty mess that her shoulder-length bob had become. Even in its ponytail, her hair had become a source of constant irritation, trapping heat and moisture against her neck and scalp. So much so that she had to shampoo her hair every single day, else it would remain full of sweat the next day.
That evening, as she reviewed her photos in her small apartment in Durban, Audrey absent-mindedly tugged at her damp hair. The images on her screen were stunning – everything she’d hoped to capture – but the physical toll of getting them was becoming increasingly frustrating. She pulled up her calendar, noting the upcoming assignments: three weeks tracking a pride of lions, followed by a documentary shoot on endangered vultures. Both would require long hours under the unforgiving sun.
Making a decision that had been brewing for months, Audrey grabbed her keys. She’d seen a small barbershop on her drives to the nature reserve – one of those old-school establishments with a spinning barber pole out front. It was nearly closing time when she pulled into the gravel parking lot, the setting sun casting long shadows across the modest building’s weathered exterior.
A small bell chimed as she pushed open the door. The shop was empty except for an elderly black barber who was sweeping up the day’s hair clippings. He looked up, surprise evident on his weathered face.
“Evening, miss. We’re about to close, but I can help you if you don’t mind being my last client for the day.”
“That would be perfect,” Audrey replied, her hand unconsciously touching her hair. “I need a hairstyle change, short hair, if you could do that for me now”
The barber, who introduced himself as Joseph, gestured to the classic leather chair. As Audrey settled in, she watched in the mirror as he draped a black and white striped cape around her, securing it snugly at her neck. The familiar weight of her hair suddenly felt foreign, like something that belonged to someone else.
“Okay, what kind of change? How short are we thinking?” Joseph asked and went on to remove the elastic band from her ponytail, letting her hair fall naturally around her shoulders. Then, running his fingers through her blonde locks, assessing the length and texture.
Audrey replies “As short as you can go while keeping it professional and feminine. I’m a wildlife photographer, and I need something practical that won’t trap heat under my hat.”
Joseph nodded knowingly and replied “Yeah, many men and women photographers ask for short cuts” reaching for his tools with the confidence of someone who had performed thousands of transformations over the decades. The sound of his spray bottle misting water through her hair created a gentle rhythm in the quiet shop.
Audrey’s heart raced as she heard the first snip of the scissors. There was no turning back now. She watched, mesmerized, as Joseph sectioned her hair with practiced precision, using chrome clips that caught the light from the overhead fluorescent tubes. The weight of the clips against her scalp felt like a countdown to transformation. Working with scissors, Joseph quickly took off the bulk hair, laying a foundation for the actual haircut.
The real moment of truth came when Joseph exchanged his regular scissors for the electric clippers. The machine hummed to life, its vibration sending a shiver through Audrey. She closed her eyes as the cold metal touched the nape of her neck, moving upward with steady pressure. The sensation was unlike anything she’d experienced – simultaneously terrifying and liberating.
Layer by layer, Joseph worked with various guard sizes, creating a graduated effect that would taper and grow out naturally. The clippers danced around her ears, each pass revealing more of her neck and scalp. Audrey’s fingers gripped the armrests of the chair, not from fear but from the intense intimacy of the moment. With each section of hair that fell to the floor, she felt lighter, as if shedding more than just hair – she was shedding the frustration of battling with it every day in the field.
Joseph switched to his detail trimmers, their higher-pitched buzz signaling the fine-tuning phase. He ran those without any guard at the perimeter of Audrey’s sideburns, over and behind the ear and her nape. He meticulously cleaned up her hairline, creating crisp edges that would frame her face perfectly. The cool metal of the trimmers against her skin sent pleasant tingles across her scalp, now exposed to the air in a way it hadn’t been since childhood. Joseph asked her how short she wanted at her crown and forehead to which Audrey said go as short as it would look good. Joseph then proceeded to cut her bangs really short, leaving her full forehead exposed and barely any hair falling on her forehead. “…Yes, that’s how I wanted my forehead area to be” said Audrey.
Finally, Joseph reached for a straight razor, warming shaving cream in his hands before applying it to the edges of her new cut. The razor’s scraping sound was oddly satisfying as it refined the lines of her neckline and around her ears. Each stroke of the razor felt like the final brushstrokes on a canvas, bringing the whole picture together.
As Joseph finished, he used a small brush to dust away loose hairs from her neck, then held up a mirror to show her the back. Audrey’s breath caught in her throat. The woman in the mirror had a super short pixie, and looked powerful, professional, and most importantly, practical. Her new pixie cut was expertly tapered, shorter at the sides and back, with just enough length on top to style if needed. The cut emphasized her high cheekbones and brought attention to her green eyes in a way her previous style never had.
“It’s so perfect,” she whispered, running her hand over the velvety short sections at the back of her head. The sensation was different but incredibly satisfying. She could already imagine how much more comfortable she would be in the field, how much easier it would be to maintain during long shoots in the bush.
The next morning, as Audrey prepared for another day of shooting, she was struck by how different her morning routine felt. No more struggling with hair ties or bobby pins, no more fighting to fit all her hair under her safari hat. Her safari had seemed quite loose and she had to re-adjust the knot. She simply ran her fingers through the short strands, and was ready to go.
As she positioned herself near a watering hole, waiting for the local zebra herd to make their morning appearance, Audrey felt the breeze over her ears for the first time in years. Her hat sat comfortably on her head, no longer adjusting the hat to fit according to the ponytail, no trapping a mass of hair beneath it. She smiled, knowing she had made the right decision. Sometimes the biggest changes in life come from the smallest realizations – like understanding that letting go of something you’ve held onto for so long can be the key to moving forward.