The other day, I went to Headchop for a haircut. They are a Williamsburg salon specializing in dry cuts for naturally curly hair. I have been a loyal customer of Headchop’s for many years now, yet I don’t have a go-to stylist. I guess I hadn’t felt like there was one stylist that I really connect with. I book whoever is available at a time most convenient for my schedule.

One stylist appeared to be around my age and every time I went for a haircut, our conversations revolved around our shared hobby of running. I learned that she was training for the Brooklyn Half Marathon, despite how difficult it was to find running paths in her neighborhood. I shared with her that joining the Prospect Park Track Club had inspired me to sign up for the New York City marathon. We talked about our playlist philosophy and our preferred brand of running shoes (New Balance for me!). I came to anticipate these running-centric chats each time I booked an appointment with her.

Another stylist had moved to NYC from Poland. We found common ground in our families’ histories of immigration. That led us to conversations about bilingualism, travel, and the places we have lived.

Then there was a young stylist with short curly hair, who shared my frustrations around Brooklyn’s public transport options to get from Williamsburg to Prospect Park.

Did I like the chitchat? Sometimes the social interaction was welcome. Discovering common ground with someone else and learning about their perspective can feel fulfilling. At other times, however, the dialogue felt like an ugh part of the salon experience.

My latest appointment was with Sarah*, a new stylist at the salon. When we met at the check in area, I was struck by her unassuming presence. She didn’t have any of the typical “Brooklyn stylist” energy; she wore simple jeans and a t-shirt. After discussing what I wanted for my haircut, she set to work.

“Do you live in the neighborhood?” Sarah asked me.

“Somewhat, in Bushwick. How about you?” I responded.

“I’m in Jamaica. The traffic is terrible,” she replied, a note of frustration in her voice. I hadn’t been to Jamaica, but knew it as the last stop on the J train near my apartment. Trying to find common ground, I asked if she lived near the J train.

She shrugged off my question, “I don’t really take the subway.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond or what to say. I suppose she didn’t either. Our conversation fizzled awkwardly and she continued to cut my hair. I started feeling uncomfortable and started getting in my head. I wondered if I should try to say something to fill the void.

After a couple of minutes, Sarah broke the silence to instruct me to lower my chin, then apologizing for her quiet nature with a chuckle, “Sorry, I’m not very talkative.”

“That’s fine. Me neither,” I responded.

That simple exchange shifted something. I felt so relieved! I started to settle into the chair. For the first time, I allowed myself to simply be present, soaking in the oldies playing in the background and the sound of Sarah’s scissors. I felt there was an understanding between us that there was no need to fill the air with words. I noticed how exhausted I was and I welcomed the peace.

She finished my hair without much fanfare, and I was pleased with the results. Afterwards, as I stood on the sidewalk in the cold, I found myself hesitating over how much to tip her on Venmo. I tend to always hesitate when it comes to tipping for my haircut. How does one measure the quality of an experience? Was it the rapport I felt with the stylist, the quality of the conversation, how much I liked my haircut? It seemed nearly impossible to assign a dollar value to these nuanced aspects of the salon experience. Defaulting to the standard 20% tip felt simpler– I entered that amount and walked away.

In the days that followed, my thoughts kept returning to my recent visit to the salon—and to previous ones. I realized that with other stylists, while conversations were seemingly superficial, they actually danced around deeper, more significant themes. Running was not just a random hobby we both had; it was our way of carving out personal space and peace in this chaotic city. When the stylist from Poland and I talked about travel and water parks, perhaps we weren’t just sharing anecdotes; we were sharing our life’s explorations on the idea of ‘home’ and what it means to belong.

I was shocked. All this time, what I thought of as small talk was actually rich with life’s most fascinating topics of discussion. Could it be? All these silly everyday interactions were… hidden treasures?

Had I realized this earlier, maybe I would have actually looked forward to these chats instead of dreading them.

And yet, there was something about the shared quiet with Sarah that felt even more pure, more universal. With Sarah, I was given a chance to reflect on what the salon experience means to me and how I might reshape it to be more authentic to who I am.

I am grateful for the reminder that we all have a lot more in common than we often realize. Each shared silence, each conversation, and each haircut offers a chance to recognize our commonalities and deepen our understanding of our shared human experience. Choosing to engage in these moments is a conscious decision we can all make.

*Fake name 😃