Boston Daily Becomes a Red Sox Redhead
Red Sox fandom and fashion don’t usually go together, but the Philip Ciampa Salon and Day Spa is trying to change that. Instead of wearing the beat-up Sox hat, diehards can become Red Sox Redheads by having extensions added to their hair. Being the slaves to fashion that we are, we sent Amy Derjue to express her love for the team by rocking some red in her coif.
Tony Ciampa greets me with a plastic bag full of long red hair that resembles the Manic Panic samples I loved in my high school days. Now, I’m no Jessica Simpson, so I have to ask him how the application works.
“This is a protein-keratin base,” he explains, tapping his finger on what looks like a thin piece of plastic on the end of the human hair. “When it gets hot, we roll it along your hair and it holds on.”
The procedure is relatively painless–Ciampa takes a quarter-inch thick section of my hair, wraps a plastic shield close to the root, and places the extension on my hair. He then takes super-heated pliers to the base and melts it. There’s an occasional tug as he rolls the adhesive onto my hair, but it’s not too painful.
Becoming a Red Sox Redhead is like Manny Ramirez developing his skills with the bat– it takes time. Ciampa started at 11 a.m., but he didn’t send me out the door until almost 1:30. For those who only want a touch of red, it would take much less time.
The middle-aged women who sit around with dye in their hair watch me with more interest than they do The View. Most smile their encouragement as the stylist works his way from the base of my neck to the top of my head. Once all the extensions are in place, I’m moved to another chair for a trim.
For the first time, I see the chunks of long red hair hanging amidst my medium-length locks. Ciampa cuts the extensions to match the length of my hair, then takes a few snips at the ends of my natural hair, which was long overdue for a trim. After handing me special shampoo and conditioner, along with a wide-toothed brush, Ciampa sent me on my way with a hearty, “Go Sox!”
The finished product is a departure from my usual preppy style, but I calm myself by remembering it’s only temporary. If the Red Sox are out of it on Thursday (God forbid), I can return to the salon to have my extensions removed as I rehash what went wrong with the baseball-savvy staff. Or, they can just become my homage to the Patriots if I grow to love the hair a coworker said makes me look like Raggedy Ann.