Matt
Spring break had never been a big part of my family’s dynamic. Sometimes we would go camping or on an extended roadtrip to relatives, but the idea of a fun on trip to a foreign country with resorts and rented housers was not something I had experienced. After dating my girlfriend for about a year, I was invited to spend my sophomore year spring break with her family on a vacation to Italy. Her family having spent a few years in Italy for father’s work, they loved to head back every year or so when it made sense. I had spent time with Elizabeth’s family in short amounts of time, but this would be a chance to get to know her parents, three sisters, and the place where she had spent all of middle school and part of high school. This vacation would be a great opportunity to experience culture I never had, but also felt like a perfect opportunity to make a great impression on the family.
The weeks leading up to our break were insanely busy with school work and shifts at the campus store. The Tuesday before we left, I sat with my girlfriend as we complained about our schedule for the next few days ahead. As we wrapped up, Elizabeth put the final touches on a to-do list for me before we were to meet her parents at the airport that Sunday night. As I walked back to my door, I looked at the list she had made for me on the dining commons’ napkin;
Finish packing
Buy new toiletry bag and fill it
Refill contact lenses
Get haircut
Print boarding pass
Pack passport
“Hm, I didn’t realize that I was in need of a haircut,” I thought as I ran my hands through my slightly outgrown hair. “Maybe she has a point.” I normally went to a salon back home where I had the back and sides clipped short with a #5 on the sides and back and the top cut with scissors into a quiff that was about three or four inches long. However, having not gotten it cut since the end of winter break, it was probably a bit shaggy on the top and a bit unkempt on the sides and back. Having gone primarily to salons that my mom frequented back home, I wasn’t one to pop into a local barbershop on any given afternoon.
As I made my way up the stairs of my dorm, I reached for my phone and pulled up the phone number of a hairdresser in my college town that I visited once in a pinch during the previous spring semester.
“Hey Linden, sorry to reach out on such short notice, do you think you could fit me in before Sunday?”
I then switched over to Elizabeth’s contact and typed out, “Geez I didn’t know my current haircut wasn’t to your standard lmao. We should load up the car on Saturday night with luggage so we don’t have to worry about it on Sunday morning”
Pulling out homework and putting some music on, I quickly fell into a trance of vocal, articles, and lo-fi music. It wasn’t until the next I saw Erica’s text that confirmed she did not in fact have time to fit me in and that I would be going without a trim until I got back to campus after break. I scheduled the appointment for two weeks out and carried on business as usual. It wasn’t until Saturday night that I realized I had made a mistake.
That night, I pulled up to Elizabeth’s off campus apartment. I saw a puzzled look on her face as she stood outside waiting with her luggage and backpack.
I popped to trunk, got out, and greeted her, “Hey, what’s up? You alright?” I walked over to her grabbing the main suitcase and smaller carry-on bag.
“I guess… but I told you that you needed to get your hair cut before we left,” she replied with a hint of annoyance crossed with frustration.
“I know, I know. And I meant to put there wasn’t a place around here that had any openings. I guess I thought it was like optional or like a suggestion ” I retorted as a closed the trunk and walked over to her.
“Didn’t have any openings? There are like two barbershops in this town that you could’ve gone to any day this week for a walk-in. It’s just kind of something my parents care about, ya know? Like wearing nice clothes to a dinner, being polite, having manners. I think men having clean haircuts is just part of that for my family. Every time one of my sister’s have brought a boy home from a significant amount of time they’ve make sure that their boyfriend’s hair is tidy.”
Shit. I was about to be in the dog house before the trip had even started. My mind began to race with ideas of how we could fix the problem… “Okay, okay fair. But here’s an idea; what is you just cut it for me.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “You want me to cut your hair?”
I shrugged, keeping my tone light. “Yeah, just a little trim. Nothing major.”
She scoffed. “Do I look like a hairstylist to you?”
“No, but you’re precise. You care about details. I figure if anyone could do a decent job, it’d be you.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms, clearly not buying it. “Oh, no. Absolutely not. I’ve never cut hair in my life, and I am not about to start on your head. We have to see my parents tomorrow, Matt.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Okay, but it’s not like my hair looks bad. It’s just… not as short as they’d probably like. Honestly? I still think it’s fine.”
Elizabeth let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t get it. If you show up looking like this, my mom is going to say something, and I really don’t want to deal with that on day one.”
I ran a hand down my face. “Alright, so what’s the solution? If you don’t think putting a pair of scissors in your hands is it.”
She stared at me for a moment, then exhaled. “We’re going to a barbershop. First thing in the morning.”
“Okay but we’ll have to rush to do that and make it to the airport in time.”
The next morning came with a sense of anxiety and stress that I looked forward to shedding as the barber in the shop downtown took the length back to a more reasonable length. The mood was fine as we drove to shop. I ran my hands through my hair nervously starting to acknowledge that my hair was quite long and that I probably should’ve prioritized a haircut more. “You should just tell the barber how you want it cut. I don’t know how you like it or what length meets the standards for your parents,” I said to her as we pulled in the complex where the barbershop sat.
“I agree. I checked online last night for the lengths of the guards and clippers and all that. Let me handle it,” She said as she closed the car door.
We walked closer to the shop as I realized the dark window indicted something far worse than I could’ve predicted. The sign on the door pointed out immediately that the shop was closed on Sunday’s and Monday’s. Shit. I stared at the closed barbershop, feeling the weight of the situation sink in. The dark windows just made everything feel worse.
“Well, that’s just great,” I muttered, frustration creeping into my voice. Elizabeth stayed quiet for a moment, arms crossed, her expression more tense than usual.
“I didn’t think they’d be closed today,” she said, her tone more frustrated than I was used to hearing from her. Elizabeth gave a small sigh, her voice quieter. “It’s not that big of a deal, but… I know my family’s picky about stuff like this. My mom especially. She’ll probably comment on it.”
I groaned, trying to think of another solution. “Alright, so what do we do now?”
Elizabeth paused for a second before letting out a slow breath. “Okay, here’s what I’ll do. I’ll tell my parents that you wanted to get a haircut at an Italian barbershop, so you decided to wait until we got here to see what the local places were like. That way, it sounds like it was intentional—like you were just holding out for a cultural experience.”
I blinked, not sure if I was hearing her right. “Wait, you’re going to tell them that? That I waited specifically to get my hair cut here?”
She gave a small, half-smile, clearly trying to keep it light but still serious. “Yeah, I think that sounds better than explaining it any other way. That way, they’ll think you were just being thoughtful about where to get it done.”
“Okay, I’m going to trust you on this one.” I smiled and start the walk back to the car
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, her smile returning. “Deal. But you still owe me for not getting this done earlier.”
I gave a small smile back, feeling a little less embarrassed now that we had a plan. “Fair enough.”
The first two days in Italy felt like something out of a dream. From the moment we landed, I was completely swept up in everything—Elizabeth’s family speaking in Italian, the vibrant streets, the mix of old-world charm and modern life. Her parents were warm and welcoming, their stories about living here adding a layer of depth to the experience. It wasn’t just about the sights; it was about the way they lived and how they shared that with me. I could feel myself opening up more than I expected, laughing with her sisters over dinner, even chatting with her dad on walks to restaurants and back to the resort.
That night, Elizabeth’s dad and I were standing outside, taking in the cool evening air. He looked over at me, his tone relaxed but still carrying a hint of seriousness.
“Hey, Matt, just a heads up,” he began, “I think you should get a haircut tomorrow before we do anything else. There’s a good place just across the street from the restaurant. It’ll be quick.”
I nodded, feeling a little relieved that he wasn’t being overly strict. “I was actually planning on it. I wanted to wait until we were here.”
He smiled, understanding. “Yes, Elizabeth mentioned that. Sounds like a good plan. Just get it taken care of early, and we’ll all feel better about it. You’ll look sharp.”
“Yeah, I’ll make sure to do that.”
Elizabeth’s dad gave a small nod, clearly satisfied. “Great. Just keep it clean and tidy, alright?”
“Of course,” I said with a grin.
The next morning, Elizabeth and I head back into town to the barbershop that her father had mentioned. The barbershop across from the restaurant was small and modern, with polished concrete floors and muted grey walls. Three chairs lined up in front of mirrors, each manned by a female barber sporting different short bobs. The shop had a calm, focused vibe, with the faint scent of hair products in the air. It wasn’t overly trendy, but it had a clean, professional atmosphere, offering a solid, no-frills haircut. Two chairs were occupied but the one closest to the door was being sat in by the barberette herself, Lisa.
Lisa stood up smile and both of us and started to speak Italian to us both. At that moment I remembered that I was leaving the fate of my haircut in Elizabeth’s hands. She responded and the barberette then gave an understanding nod and motioned for me to sit in the chair. As I sat, Lisa again tossed what seemed like a question in Elizabeth’s direction. Elizabeth spoke in Italian back, walking over to me, running her fingers through the hair on the sides and back gesturing to the clippers as she spoke, running her fingers through the length on top and then using her fingers to indicate a nonspecific, small amount.
I had absolutely no clue what the plan was as Lisa threw the cape over my shoulders, wrapped the rolled paper around my neck, and walked back to her station. As she grabbed her tools I began to get a feeling of excited anticipation. I had no idea what was coming next. Seconds later, Lisa began to pump up the chair I was sitting in as she combed through the sides and back of my hair. The clippers started and unexpectedly, my chair was turn 180 degrees to face the back wall where Elizabeth sat with an anticipated grin on her face. Something about her expression felt off to me. She gave me a sly wink as the clippers drove their first path up the back of my head. Lisa took no time in dumping a large clump of my dark brown hair into my lap before starting the next. As she continued to work the other two customers and their barberettes finished, paid, and left through the front door on what appear to be a lunch break.
As the next several minutes went by, it became clear that the sides and back were likely being clipped shorter than the #4 I was used to. Once Lisa had turned off the clippers off, she used her other hand to spin the chair so that I was now facing the mirror. Holy shit. Yeah. The sides and back were buzzed to what seemed like a #2 at the longest. Lisa, directing her attention to Liz, offered up around question, looking for what seemed like confirmation of a previous command.
Elizabeth, all smiles at this point, stood to get a better view as Lisa change the tools she planned to work with. Coming back with clippers, I prepared for her to begin the fade process of the length that was left on top. I heard the SNAP followed by the hum of the clippers, and before I could brace myself, they buzzed against my forehead. I couldn’t tell what Lisa was going to do, but she didn’t give me a chance to confirm with Elizabeth. Quickly the clippers were being run over the top of my head The sensation of the clippers buzzing against my scalp was intense, and I could feel the weight of the hair falling down around my face and neck. With each pass, it became more real that I was getting a buzzcut. Minutes passed as the warm clippers continuously ran over my head again and again. I couldn’t believe it. After buzzing the top, Lisa went over the same spot repeatedly, using her free hand to hold the nape of my neck steady as she ensured every strand was evenly clipped. The precision was almost too much to handle.
Her family exchanged smiles as we reentered the hotel lobby. It was clear that this was the expectation for vacation’s going forward. I would come to find out that Elizabeth would reward me for this sacrifice in full later on.
