Matrone Salon Quotes

It was astonishing how loudly one laughed at tales of gruesome things, of war's brutality-I with the rest of them. I think at the bottom of it was a sense of the ironical contrast between the normal ways of civilian life and this hark-back to the caveman code. It made all our old philosophy of life monstrously ridiculous. It played the "hat trick" with the gentility of modern manners. Men who had been brought up to Christian virtues, who had prattled their little prayers at mothers' knees, who had grown up to a love of poetry, painting, music, the gentle arts, over-sensitized to the subtleties of half-tones, delicate scales of emotion, fastidious in their choice of words, in their sense of beauty, found themselves compelled to live and act like ape-men; and it was abominably funny. They laughed at the most frightful episodes, which revealed this contrast between civilized ethics and the old beast law. The more revolting it was the more, sometimes, they shouted with laughter, especially in reminiscence, when the tale was told in the gilded salon of a French chateau, or at a mess-table.

It was, I think, the laughter of mortals at the trick which had been played on them by an ironical fate. They had been taught to believe that the whole object of life was to reach out to beauty and love, and that mankind, in its progress to perfection, had killed the beast instinct, cruelty, blood-lust, the primitive, savage law of survival by tooth and claw and club and ax. All poetr ~ Phillip Gibbs

Pamela could be at the gym right now, or at the salon, or with the board of directors dealing with the business. She could be anywhere. ~ Traci Tyne Hilton

Hotel Du Lac
Edith, once again anonymous, and accepting her anonymity, made an appropriately inconspicuous exit. And, sitting in the deserted salon, the first to arrive from the dining room, she felt her precarious dignity hard-pressed and about to succumb in the light of her earlier sadness. The pianist, sitting down to play, gave her a brief nod. She nodded back, and thought how limited her means of expression had become: nodding to the pianist or to Mme de Bonneuil, listening to Mrs Pusey, using a disguised voice in the novel she was writing and, with all of this, waiting for a voice that remained silent, hearing very little that meant anything to her at all. The dread implications of this condition made her blink her eyes and vow to be brave, to do better, not to give way. But it was not easy. ~ Anita Brookner

Chadron had a water tower, grain elevators, a tanning salon, a video rental store, a small liberal arts college, a Hardee's, a stoplight, and a curling yellow sign in the pet store window that read, 'Hamsters and Tarantulas Featured Today.' ~ Poe Ballantine

I heard my mother talking badly of me to people who were talking badly of me in her salon. That's probably the thing that I'm most sensitive of in all my friendships and my relationships. I just ... I just can't take that. I'm comfortable with enemies, but I can't take it from friends. ~ Vincent Gallo

I have a mother who never took no for an answer when it came to her creative pursuits. She started a hair salon in her spare bedroom and four years later had 30 employees. ~ Solange Knowles

Shira turned and blew kisses toward her clients who had pressed their faces against the salon window like children in a candy store and she their Willy Wonka of beauty. ~ Terri Gillespie

If you were a single mom, there's no way to support yourself and your kids by working in a hair salon. It's about a woman who decides to go and do what was considered a man's job, but was treated quite horribly for it and decides she has to fight for her rights when everyone thinks she should just shut up and take it. ~ Charlize Theron

The cotton swab softly moved across my face, leaving a pleasant coolness behind. It swept over my forehead, down my nose, on the sides of my cheeks, and across my chin. It relaxed me and I melted. And slowly, I began to fall asleep. I considered reupping for another hour.
But then I felt the burning.
"Oooh," I said, opening my eyes. "Cindy, this doesn't feel right."
"Oh, good," Cindy said, sounding unconcerned. "You're starting to feel it now?"
Seconds later, I was in severe pain. "Oh, I'm more feeling it," I answered, gripping the arms of the chair until my knuckles turned white.
"Well, it should stop here in a second…," she insisted. "It's just working its magic--"
My face was melting off. "Ouch! Ow! Seriously, Cindy! Take this stuff off my face! It's killing me!"
"Oh, dear…okay, okay," Cindy answered, quickly grabbing a soaked washcloth and quickly wiping the nuclear solution from my skin. Finally, the intense burning began to subside.
"Gosh," I said, trying to be nice. "I don't think that's something I want to try again." I swallowed hard, trying to will the pain receptors to stop firing.
"Hmmm," Cindy said, perplexed. "I'm sorry it stung a little. But you'll love it tomorrow morning when you wake up! Your skin will look so fresh and dewy."
It better, I thought as I paid Cindy for the torture and left the tiny salon. My face tingled, and not at all in a good way. And as I walked to my car, the floodgates of wedding worry o ~ Ree Drummond

Gas Lights - Without Oil, Tallow, Wicks or Smoke. It is not necessary to invite attention to the gas lights by which my salon of paintings is now illuminated; those who have seen the ring beset with gems of light are sufficiently disposed to spread their reputation; the purpose of this notice is merely to say that the Museum will be illuminated every evening until the public curiosity be gratified. ~ Rembrandt Peale

It was black-black, so thick it drank two containers of relaxer at the salon, so full it took hours under the hooded dryer, and, when finally released from pink plastic rollers, sprang free and full, flowing down her back like a celebration. Her father called it a crown of glory. ~ Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Another Mexican American in another class, approaches Victor after class, carrying his copy of Fahrenheit 451, required reading for the course. The student doesn't understand the reference to a salon. Victor explains that this is just another word for the living room. No understanding in the student's eyes. He tries Spanish: la salon. Still nothing. The student has grown up as a migrant worker. And Victor remembers the white student who had been in his class a quarter ago, who had written about not understanding racism, that there was none where he had grown up, in Wennatchee, that he has played with the children of his father's migrant workers without there being any hostility. His father's workers. Property. Property that doesn't know of living rooms. And Victor thought of what the man from Wennatchee knew, what the ROTC Mexican American knew, what the migrant worker knew. And he thought of getting up the next morning to go with Serena to St. Mary's for cheese and butter. And he knew there was something he was not doing in his composition classrooms. ~ Victor Villanueva

I don't think Fox News or Rush Limbaugh need Clinton it turns out. I think there's a hunger out there for - whether it's on the left or right - a more lively and provocative type of political journalism. I think Salon and Fox on the other side have both benefited from that. ~ David Talbot

But, no, really, I had it this time. One of my first Salon essays was about confronting my debt, which had gotten so out of control I had to borrow money from my parents. That was a low moment, but it came with a boost of integrity. A free tax attorney helped me calculate the amount I owed the IRS - $40,000 - and put me on a payment plan. My commitment was seven years, which made me feel like the guy in Shawshank Redemption, tunneling out of prison with a spoon. ~ Sarah Hepola

I still go to a salon where a gal does my hair, and I don't know if it's because I'm a celebrity but by the time I leave there, we are eating chicken and talking and screaming. ~ Jenifer Lewis

This isn't … it isn't a trick, is it?" Her voice was smaller than she wanted it to be.

The shadow of something dark moved across Kaz's face. "If it were a trick, I'd promise you safety. I'd offer you happiness. I don't know if that exists in the Barrel, but you'll find none of it with me."

For some reason, those words had comforted her. Better terrible truths than kind lies.

"All right," she said. "How do we begin?"

"Let's start by getting out of here and finding you some proper clothes. Oh, and Inej," he said as he led her out of the salon, "don't ever sneak up on me again. ~ Leigh Bardugo

While I'm critical to the Bush presidency, it's been enormously beneficial for Salon because we're seen as kind of an aggressive watchdog on the Bush White House. Particularly since Florida, our readership hit a whole new level, and we held onto those readers. ~ David Talbot

You are a GODDESS when you leave the salon ~ Jenifer Lewis

Adrienne Rich had it right. No one gives a crap about motherhood unless they can profit off it. Women are expendable and the work of childbearing, done fully, done consciously, is all-consuming. So who's gonna write about it if everyone doing it is lost forever within it? You want adventures, you want poetry and art, you want to salon it up over at Gertrude and Alice's, you'd best leave the messy all-consuming baby stuff to someone else. Birthing and nursing and rocking and distracting and socializing and cooking and washing and gardening and mending: what's that compared with bullets whizzing overhead, dazzling destructive heroics, headlines, parties, ~ Elisa Albert

A Ted Kennedy, John Kerry, John Edwards, Howard Dean, George Soros, or Al Gore looks - no, acts - like he either came out of a hairstylist's salon or got off a Gulfstream. ~ Victor Davis Hanson

The first thing I do is I check my emails and my texts. I guess I shouldn't feel guilty about it at this point; it's kind of the norm. Sometimes I'll bounce around Twitter. And if I have time, I'll catch up on the news, usually on 'Huffington Post' or 'Salon.' ~ Randall Park

The Montreux Palace Hotel was built in an age when it was thought that things would last. It is on the very shores of Switzerland's Lake Geneva, its balconies and iron railings look across the water, its yellow-ocher awnings are a touch of color in the winter light. It is like a great sanitarium or museum. There are Bechstein pianos in the public rooms, a private silver collection, a Salon de Bridge. This is the hotel where the novelist Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov and his wife, Véra, live. They have been here for 14 years. One imagines his large and brooding reflection in the polished glass of bookcases near the reception desk where there are bound volumes of the Illustrated London News from the year 1849 to 1887, copies of Great Expectations, The Chess Games of Greco and a book called Things Past, by the Duchess of Sermoneta.

Though old, the hotel is marvelously kept up and, in certain portions, even modernized. Its business now is mainly conventions and, in the summer, tours, but there is still a thin migration of old clients, ancient couples and remnants of families who ask for certain rooms when they come and sometimes certain maids. For Nabokov, a man who rode as a child on the great European express trains, who had private tutors, estates, and inherited millions which disappeared in the Russian revolution, this is a return to his sources. It is a place to retire to, with Visconti's Mahler and the long-dead figures of La Belle Epoque, Edward VII, d'Annunzi ~ James Salter

Luz cleared her throat. "I've always said, 'Getting a foothold in a country that doesn't want you is daunting, but determination and good manners can go a long way.' So, be careful. Gays are outsiders too . . . just like us."
Luz smiled. "But, life in the shadows isn't so bad."
"You don't have a Green Card?" Zoe asked.
"No. And I'm not attracted to men. But I'll never be Mexican again. I'm a child of free enterprise, wandering through an international marketplace. I may only work in a nail salon, but at least I'm part of America's circus of self-invention. ~ Michael Ben Zehabe

Romanticism is a grace, celestial or infernal, that bestows us eternal stigmata. ~ Charles Baudelaire

Someone with a figure like Jennifer Aniston has a trainer, a cook spinning out some version of the latest diet, and probably a stop at the tanning salon. ~ Amanda Peet

I went to the beauty salon today and got spruced up," Grandma said. "Ever since Mildred Frick called me a slut my phone hasn't stopped ringing. I got two dates for the weekend."
"It might not be such a good thing to have men calling you because they think you're a slut," I said. "They're only going to be after one thing."
"I hope that's true. I don't want to find out I went blond and bought all them thongs for nothing. ~ Janet Evanovich

Marcelina loved that miniscule, precise moment when the needle entered her face. It was silver; it was pure. It was the violence that healed, the violation that brought perfection. There was no pain, never any pain, only a sense of the most delicate of penetrations, like a mosquito exquisitely sipping blood, a precision piece of human technology slipping between the gross tissues and cells of her flesh. She could see the needle out of the corner of her eye; in the foreshortened reality of the ultra-close-up it was like the stem of a steel flower. The latex-gloved hand that held the syringe was as vast as the creating hand of God: Marcelina had watched it swim across her field of vision, seeking its spot, so close, so thrillingly, dangerously close to her naked eyeball. And then the gentle stab. Always she closed her eyes as the fingers applied pressure to the plunger. She wanted to feel the poison entering her flesh, imagine it whipping the bloated, slack, lazy cells into panic, the washes of immune response chemicals as they realized they were under toxic attack; the blessed inflammation, the swelling of the wrinkled, lined skin into smoothness, tightness, beauty, youth.

Marcelina Hoffman was well on her way to becoming a Botox junkie.

Such a simple treat; the beauty salon was on the same block as Canal Quatro. Marcelina had pioneered the lunch-hour face lift to such an extent that Lisandra had appropriated it as the premise for an entire series. Whore. ~ Ian McDonald

The rule of the Morrell family was over, and Richard owned a used-car lot and Monica worked at a nail salon, until one day she got run over by a bus. Very sad. ~ Rachel Caine

For years now I have run a kitchen-sink punk salon in my house, called Salon du Gay. In the early days, people would pay for a riot grrrl bob or a passable bleach job with a mixtape, $3 or a selection of baked goods - whichever they could afford. More recently though, with Gossip doing well, I've performed these punk hair transformations for free. ~ Beth Ditto

I've been to many beauty salons. No one gave me a certificate. ~ Ljupka Cvetanova

Jessica

I first met the man I married at a hair salon. I was going out the door; Jep was going in--for a haircut. Seriously. Nowadays, most of the Robertson men don't get haircuts, but Jep did back then. When our paths crossed that day, we said nothing more than "hi" to each other, just one word.
Jep and I both grew up in West Monroe, Louisiana, and he is two years older than I am. We went to different high schools, but because we lived in a close community, we had heard about each other. He knew who I was, and I knew who he was--and I thought he had a cool name. I had heard good things about him, including, "He's a dream." When our paths crossed at the hair salon and we simply said hello, I had no way of knowing the hairdresser would tell Jep all about me as she cut his hair that day. Both of us had gone to her for years, so she knew us pretty well, and she said really nice things about me to Jep. In fact, she takes credit for getting us together! After we were married I found out that when he left the hair salon that day, he went home and told his best friend, "I just met the girl I'm going to marry."
"What's her name?" his friend asked.
"Jessica," Jep responded. He only knew this because the hairdresser had told him.
"Jessica who?" his friend asked. "What's her last name?"
"I don't know," Jep admitted.
I love the fact that Jep knew he would marry me after only seeing me once. Maybe he did not know my last name, but the next time he ~ Jessica Robertson

After dinner, at five o'clock, the crew distributed folding canvas cots to the passengers, and each person opened his bed wherever he could find room, arranged it with the bedclothes from his petate, and set the mosquito netting over that. Those with hammocks hung them in the salon, and those who had nothing slept on the tablecloths that were not changed more than twice during the trip. ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

RULE #1
Market your business to the customer YOU WANT.
Most beauty businesses try to be everything to everyone. It's exhausting and expensive promoting yourself to everyone. Most people simply give up.
Focus on the customers you really want. What is your passion, what do you excel in? Who is your ideal customer? What would you ideally like to do every day in your business?
Focus on what you want to do and the clients you want, and market directly to them and only them. ~ Jana Elston

My mum doesn't enjoy sometimes listening to me tell staff off, and I say to my mum, it's a kitchen, not a hair-dressing salon. ~ Gordon Ramsay

That's a killer accent you have. Sounds exotic."
"Just British, I'm afraid. I only know a trifling of foreign tongues."
He plopped down onto the divan next to her, his multi-colored arm stretched along the back.
"Foreign tongues - I like the sound of that."
She thought to the article she'd read in the nail salon. "I've picked up a little French and Italian,and more recently, a bit of Hindi, I believe."
"Really?" he said, leaning close. "Such as?"
"Oh, you know, Kama Sutra, and things of that nature."
Suddenly Liam was at her side. "You'll be sitting out front, Emily," he said through gritted
teeth, "right next to the stage. ~ Bella Street

The Empty Door

I will meet you,
At the empty door,
Enter the atrium,
Of dreams once bold,
Regrets untold,
Walk the corridor,
Of restlessness,
Bathe in the pool,
Of forgetfulness,
And in the grand salon,
Where the threads of life,
Now grey,
Fray in the dying light,
Share verses,
Forged by the night. ~ Ian Thomas Shaw

The first time I cut all my hair off was when I was 19. I just got fed up going to the salon every week. I'd had enough! On a whim, it was off. It's low-maintenance. ~ Lupita Nyong'o

I never make a trip to the United States without visiting a supermarket. To me they are more fascinating than any fashion salon. ~ Wallis Simpson

I have enormous respect for Steve Johnson, and as I've told him, Feed was one of the inspirations for Salon. They were up there before we were. And also for Joey and the Suck people. ~ David Talbot

I have no regrets about launching Salon. For the life of me, I can't imagine doing anything else. ~ David Talbot

'The Dictator' lands somewhere between wan Mel Brooks and good Adam Sandler, whose 'You Don't Mess With the Zohan,' about an Israeli Special Forces soldier at a hair salon, manages to strike better contrasts with vaguely similar culture differences - it's a nuttier movie, too. ~ Wesley Morris

I just thought I would work in a hair salon and do community theater. ~ Christina Hendricks