When one has an out-of-body experience with a master it produces a lasting effect. I had one such moment with an artist here in Florence. His name – Fabio Velotti - a seriously perfect name wouldn’t you agree? I booked an appointment as my hair was in need of a little TLC. I actually love my hair when I’m in Europe. Contrary to the dry climate of Calgary, the limited wave I fabricate for myself back home is forced with more products and hand-held devices than Vidal Sassoon owns himself. What can be best described as a swish instead of an actual wave or curl, is sparse and tends to look a little like I forgot to comb my hair in the morning.
In the dewy air that surrounds the hills of Tuscany my tresses behave with a gentle flow and manageable frizz. I need only scrunch the ends with a splash of water and I’m set for the day.
With the aim of releasing an inch or two, I book an appointment with Donatella’s current hairdresser. Fabio Velotti owner of Rasoi Hair Jazz.
My beautiful friend Donatella (you know the stunning Italian one) has arguably the loveliest hair I’ve ever seen. She wakes each morning and it looks like she’s just had it styled. I understand that’s “her” hair, however who best to go to for hair advice than a woman who understands the benefits of a Jazzy haircut. She has nothing but praise for Fabio, says he has Jazz Hands. I have no idea what Jazz Hands are, however after reading his profile on his website, I decided to take the plunge.
If it’s a disaster no worries it will grow back. I’m feeling particularly generous with my hair at the moment. I’ll let you in on a little secret, I’m lazy when it comes to getting my hair done. It’s like I’m not really a girl in this area of my life. I rarely go and when I do it’s last minute and not particularly well planned. I could quiet possibly regret this decision today. Throwing caution to the wind I enlist Donatella to join me on my hair-adventure. She reminds me that he is “creative” and “artistic” in his approach. If he chooses to create a masterpiece with the canvas sprouting from my cranium, she doesn’t want to be held responsible. Having said that, I’d never let him go as far as the disaster that many of us experienced with 80s hair. A coiffeur calamity decade if I do say so myself.
Upon arrival at his studio he begins our session with a series of questions: how short? layers? no layers? hair idols? pictures? As he speaks he runs his fingers through my hair and studies the structure of my face. After a skillful washing that includes tactical scrutiny of the length, previous cut and condition of my hair, he walks me to his chair and for the third time reviews in detail the texture of my hair as he partially blow dries it. As he works he continues to examining the angles of my face. Once my hair is partially dry, he leaves my side to peruse his selection of music. He choses an appropriate inspirational CD from his sizeable collection. I now understand the Jazz in Rasoi Hair Jazz, he’s actually cutting my hair to Jazz. Can you imagine? Up until I hear the music I hadn’t quiet grasped the artistry he possessed. It seems I’m in good hands with Maestro Fabio.
The cutting begins in a flurry of motion. His hands move in directions contrary to the natural flow of nature. Segments of hair find themselves airborne momentarily before descending around me, joining the other fallen solders littering the floor within a 4′ radius of where I’m sitting. I’m mesmerized by his movements that I liken to Edward Sizzorhands, combine them with his facial communication that gives way to either pride or discontent. Snip after snip he smiles or winces until he is satisfied in his work. With each cut he runs his fingertips from root to end, twirling and massaging each tendril until he’s achieved the perfect textural reaction. With the rise and fall of the tempo in his chosen music, his scissors keep perfect time. My eyes dance between his face and his hands, I can’t decide where to look as his facial expressions are animated and intense. His hands are mystical and fluid, much like those of a painter engulfed in a masterpiece. Glints of light reflect off forged steel as his razor-sharp tools clip repeatedly, creating a halo of activity engulfing my tingling scalp. I find myself intoxicated by his graceful movements, as if hypnotized under a magicians spell.
Long story short… You need a hair cut? You want an experience? You’re in Florence? Go see Fabio and prepare for a moment well worth the price of admission. You’ll find him at: Rasoi Jazz Hair