Beauty Shop Days
Beauty Shop Days
I grew up in a traditional beauty shop in mid twentieth century America, where women arrived for their weekly wash, roller set, teased bouffant, or helmet sprayed up do. Odors of Aqua-Net and cold wave permanent solution permeated the entirety of our small Philly rowhouse. From daybreak to evening fall, my mother’s clients seemed to inhabit not only the shop area, but also the living room and kitchen. The women often brought treats for all, gooey butter cake, fragrant cinnamon buns topped with raisins and nuts, and the ubiquitous soft pretzel, a Philadelphia staple.
The first client appeared early. My mother, in the midcentury de riguer all white hairdresser uniform, had been poring over a section of the Encyclopedia Britannica while sipping her Tetley tea while waiting for her 7:15 appointment to arrive.
The transformation of our living room into a full service beauty salon occurred when my parents divorced. My father was a World War II paratrooper veteran who had experienced brutal combat. He remained in the Army as a counterintelligence agent, but the horror of war haunted him still, and he began drinking heavily in my preteen years. His alcoholism ended their marriage and my father’s role as an involved parent. My mother had worked evenings at a large shop during the marriage, but in a decision unusual for the homemaker era, became an entrepreneur. A generation later, she would have been considered a feminist.
A large, multicolored neon sign blinking the words “Mitzi’s Beauty Shop” was hung high in the front picture window. Helmet dryers, hair washing sink, Revlon lipsticks and bright nail polishes for sale filled the former living room space. Zoned for commercial use, mom’s previous clients eagerly followed her. Before the free and easy styles of the late sixties, hairdos were meant to last for a week, which ensured a steady supply of customers. As our father fell more into alcoholism and lost his job, mom became the sole support of my younger sister and myself. No outside childcare was required. She was constantly working, but she was home.
The role model of a business owner mother subconsciously influenced me. Growing up a working class girl in an urban neighborhood in the mid-sixties was not a pathway to higher education. My mother was unique amongst her female peers. She encouraged higher education for her daughters with this warning, “You don’t know if there will be a man around for financial support. You have to learn to be self sufficient”.
Affordable costs at state related Temple University in 1964 enabled me to afford tuition. Excellent public transportation carried me daily to college as a commuter student in those years without a car after the divorce.
With the support of my mother, and my working multiple jobs during the school year and summers, I was able to get my Bachelor’s degree in Sociology. I was then fortunate to be awarded an internship at an election watchdog organization in Philadelphia that covered my tuition for a Master’s degree in Public Administration. That was followed up with teaching assistantships and fellowships, which enabled me to obtain a Ph.D. in Political Science in 1979.
I had fortunately followed my mother’s advice to be able to be a breadwinner. In the 1980s, my husband was diagnosed with a rare eye disease, retinitis pigmentosa, which meant he would eventually lose most of his vision and be disabled. With my mother’s encouragement, I decided to attend law school. I received my degree and passed the bar in 1989. With my dual degrees, I was able to support the family.
My mother was my role model and guide. Without her encouragement, advice, and assistance, my achievements would not have been possible. The path was not always easy for her or for me, but persistence, hard work and family dedication prevailed.
