Wine Talk with Mark the Hairdresser

Today I had my hair dressed, or cut, or whatever your term of choice is for the act of having your hair sliced with scissors.

Language is something Mark my hairdresser/cutter/groomer rolls his eyes at when it comes to his profession.

“A lot of people are PC,” he says, “and say hairdresser or hair stylist. I think it’s all stupid. I just cut hair.”

Mark and I go way back. Mark has cut my hair for more than three years now. A good hairdresser must have skills in dressing hair, there is no doubt. But a good hairdresser is also a good conversationalist, and Mark and I have shot the shampoo over subjects ranging from Quentin Tarantino to elicit drug use to bullshit DJs and beyond. Mark and I know no bounds when it comes to good conversation. And, to be honest, I feel that if I keep him talking, he cuts my hair better.

When the subject of food comes up, Mark often touts his favorite Atlanta hangout, a wine joint I’ve never been to called Vinocity.

What follows is a short play based on Mark’s and my conversation today about wine. But first, a photo I snapped of Mark cutting my hair: (I look like a bug-eyed lunatic and Mark looks like a serial killer but you get the idea)



a short play

The Amateur Gourmet in chair, Mark overhead with scissors.

AG: I don’t really get wine. I mean, I like it but I don’t understand all the fuss.

Mark: Well I don’t know man. I mean, you can buy really good wine for really cheap. I never buy a bottle over $10.

AG: We went to Fritti on Friday night and the wine cost $40.

Mark: See, man, I bet they marked that up. That was probably a $10 bottle of wine and they marked it up $30. What kind of wine was it?

AG: I don’t remember. It was red.

Mark: That’s crazy.

AG: I don’t really like red wine. I like white wine better cause it’s cold.

Mark: Red wine’s cold!

AG: No it’s not. I thought you served red wine at room temperature?

Mark: No, man, see that’s a common mistake. It’s not room temperature: it’s cellar temperature. And cellar temperature is 57 degrees.

AG: Oh.

Mark: But white wine is served colder. That’s why you’re supposed to hold the stem of the glass so you don’t heat it up.

AG: I see.

Mark: And when you get your red wine at cellar temperature, you hold the glass in the palm of your hand to heat it up a bit.

AG: Ah, ok. Well we have a few bottles at home left over from our birthday, I should probably drink those.

Mark: The problem is, though, once you open a bottle, even if you only pour yourself a glass, you’ll end up drinking half a bottle. And then since you drank half a bottle you’ll probably drink the whole bottle.

AG: It’s weird with wine because you don’t think of it the same way as you do other alcohol. Like, if someone was walking around with a flask and drinking out of it every five seconds you’d say: “What a lush!” But if they were drinking wine you’d say: “How sophisticated.”

Mark: I know. And the problem is that it’s like pure sugar, so if you believe all that Atkins crap about carbs it’s like you’re drinking this big bottle of sugar. Makes you fat.

AG: True. Have you ever–

Woman approaches.

Woman: Mark, your 4 o’clock is here.

AG: –tried Francis Ford Coppola’s wine?

Mark: Sorry, man, the haircut’s over.

AG: But don’t you talk to me because you find our conversation stimulating?

Mark breaks a wine bottle and points the jagged end at the Amateur Gourmet.

Mark: Never ask me that! Now go!

The Amateur Gourmet runs away in tears.


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