Litwick!

Annie Pulliam | Profile Feature Essay | A1

There wasn’t much of a crowd. There were five or so, fiddling with black gowns or waiting patiently in the lobby. Workers stood over them, focused intently on making sure their hair was brushed, cut, dyed, or dried. They broke into conversation a few times, allowing the customers to reflect on their lives.

I sat in chairs lining the walls. Though this was my hairdresser of choice, today I had a different goal. The manager, finishing up with the first process of hair-foiling, shook her hands and dragged a tray to another room. She signaled to the customer she’d be back, as I stood up and followed her. She then gestured to the porch area just outside, and we exited, seating ourselves in the shade as she tucked her auburn hair behind her ears.

Margaret Misenar, the manager of Mac Hair Studio, has run her business for ten years. Driven by her love for art, which always seemed to find a way into her medium, she had taken up cosmetics studies fifteen years prior. Before, she had an interest in making stain glass windows, becoming a seamstress, simply being able to use her hands to create. Beginning her journey wasn’t really a conscious decision for her — it was simply the first step into expanding her artistic abilities.

Margaret grew up in Dunoon, Scotland. A close-knit town gave her the support she needed to become a fashion designer — however, those dreams never came to fruition.

“I had freedom and nourishment in my small town, but there wasn’t much there to offer me,” she says, tone brimming with a thick Scottish accent. “I had to venture out in order to get anywhere.”

When Margaret came to Florida and decided to open up her own small business, she describes the process as ‘stepping off of the box.’ She found an entirely new world of work, where priorities began to change. Her focus went from what she wanted to what she could do for others- her clients, workers and family.

“It was never about making money,” she reflects, almost comically. “It’s been about stepping up to the plate — and a challenge it’s been. Everyday.”

Outside of the job, Margaret has her hands full with other duties- ones which reflect her more maternal status. Though her children, Lyndsey and Colin, have grown and left the household, they share strong bonds with their mother, and one plans to take the family business.

Colin grew up spending a lot of time in the salon, sweeping up hair, assisting his mother and getting more accustomed to a woman’s world. I questioned the relationship between the two, as from my own experience with my mother being a teacher, family in the work place isn’t always the most efficient idea. Colin explains that he and his mother are very close, as she’s always been particularly nurturing.

“The one time we had a big argument, we took it outside of the salon,” he says. “She’s got a bit of a boss perspective, but she treats everyone in a mothering way.”

Margaret used to travel with Colin, to shows, conferences, or even to visit relatives in Scotland. However, once Lyndsey was born, money was stricter and they couldn’t afford to go to as many places. She then says things became more mundane, as she could no longer talk with others of her industry.

She participated with a group of young, creative individuals around the world, creating their own hairstyles which would appear on stage and in magazines. She smiles weakly, potentially missing the times when she was allowed to be as artistic as she had been.

Still, Margaret easily finds things to keep herself occupied. Outside of the job, she has home responsibilities, and also enjoys swimming for exercise and being at peace in her garden. Even so, she doesn’t have much time outside of work.

As Margaret runs this business herself, she hand-picked her team a few years back, and they have proven to be as successful as she had hoped. She set her priorities on those who had the same morals, ones that would blend with hers. This includes respect for others as well as themselves, and having an enthusiasm and respect for their business.

“A lot of people abuse business, so I didn’t want to surround myself with those types of people. My philosophy is that I’d rather stand by myself in business before I let people come in and destroy my happy space.  It hasn’t changed.” She says, laughing.

Coming into her business with only a high school education prompted her to learn the ways of the business-world, including accounting and rigorous organization skills which pushed her to her limit. There was nothing creative in that. Looking past it, though, she emphasizes the importance of jumping off of the box, doing what the heart tells you to do, being a phone call away from others — most importantly, however, never losing sight of your dream simply because you’re scared.

“Because, failures are only learning curves.”

The moon fell.

He landed at his knees

plastered in crusted blood and a

stream of light

that attached itself to his tunic

He watched the abomination bleed out

spirit in front of him.

Eyes glittering I stepped forward

in the ring of his impending demise

and clutched him close against my gown

He dug his face into it, and

wiped his eyes at the seams.

He was running across a vast field.

Sword in its hilt, he did not have time to count his steps

like he counted the goats he herded.

boots torn at the soles-

they were his only pair.

He was a child of the forest.

Around others he bore masks to hide his disdain

as his prophesied responsibility came in quick chokes of pain

he hoped they would not question him

when, instead they clutched his shoulders

muttering forcefully into his ear

“You shouldn’t have done that.

As he wiped away blonde locks

he tripped on brown leather

Dug his face into the grass, for a moment

felt the pressure on his shoulders like heavy storms

Eyes shut.

He had presented me with his proof

the ray of light shining through stormclouds.

In sleep, he woke on an island shore he hurried

to the top of the dunes

only realizing he was still in his pajamas

and they commented

on how such a lazy boy could ever dream

of being a hero.

Yet as he ran his callused fingers down the erect spine of his blade

Instrument pressed in his palm

Perhaps it was I that crossed his mind-

Tossing his mask to the side, he clutched his weapon

which echoed in the sunlight, a servant to his will

Determination flickered in his eyes like-

Wildfire.

It quickly vanished around us as the lightning came

to closure

and, the stars quietly searched for their friend

While I pulled mine closer.

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