Surrounded by a sea of done-up Bergen county moms, I looked sloppy and out of place in my flannel shirt and Carhart beanie.
The salon itself made me feel like an outsider, but I never felt like an outsider with Shari.
In the safety of her little studio in the back, I felt seen.
Anytime I came home from Vermont to NJ on college break, a trip to Shari, the “eyebrow lady,” was on the agenda.
Eyebrow appointments with Shari were holy.
“Send me pictures, and remember, you know the way,” Shari says in her mysterious, sage way as she walks her previous client to the door. Presumably, those parting words of wisdom related to whatever they discussed between plucks in the appointment.
I’m up next. “Hello sweet,” Shari greets me in the waiting area, with her long curly red hair billowing behind her, colorful flowy garments, and thick tortoise shell glasses that sat low on the bridge of her nose. She leads me to her studio– floating.
Shari doesn’t walk. She floats.
I put my things down and lay on her table.
“So… who is he?” she gets right to it. I’ve been away at college and somehow, without me mentioning it, she can tell I have a boyfriend.
“How do you know?” I ask, stunned but also not because Shari always knew.
“It's all over your face, my dear” she says plainly, cocking her head to the side to examine her work.
She listens as I gab on about how he plays music and goes to festivals and likes psychedelics, all while gingerly removing hairs from around my eyebrows.
“Is he Jewish?” she cuts to the heart of the matter, though I think she already knew the answer.
“No, but….” I go on trying to defend all the things I saw in him.
“He drinks too much, Jews don’t need alcohol to have fun. This isn’t it,” she states plainly, tweezers in hand, pulling at the stray hairs above my eyelids.
I was both bummed and relieved when Shari revealed that he wasn’t going to be my forever person. Mostly, I was relieved.
Deep inside, I knew that I was contorting myself in an unsustainable way to be in a relationship with that boy who I met working at a sandwich shop my freshman year of college.
But for some reason, I needed to hear it from Eyebrow-Lady-Shari for confirmation.
She finished up my eyebrows and sent me on my way to the front of the salon, then vanished in a poof.
Two years later, I found myself back in Shari’s studio, home on another college break with tales of a new boy.
“We’re getting closer, but he isn’t right either,” she said with certainty.
Shari always confirmed what I already knew.
I went to her for more than just eyebrow plucking– she was a mystical fairy godmother figure, a hippie, spiritual elder who seemed to know important things about love and life.
A fortune teller, therapist, cosmic guide, and eyebrow artist all-in-one. (She was adamant about referring to eyebrow plucking as an art. “The hairs speak to me,” she’d say).
As a teenager constantly searching for “signs,” I cherished guidance in the form of peripheral yet constant characters in the plot of my life..
I had a propensity for seeking out eccentric figures like Shari, mining for insights and connection anywhere I could find it—m
Dody, the coworker at Panera who I’d close with on Monday nights.
Didi, the Hebrew school art teacher who lived out of her car and always seemed stoned.
Yuris, the spunky older girl on my high school track team.
CJ and Beck— or Braids and Which Way, as they we’re known by on the trail— the pair of best friends in their late 60s who I met hiking on the Appalachian trail one summer.
And of course, Shari, the hippie lady from upstate who treats eyebrow plucking like an art.
For me, these women were the real “influencers” of my teenage years — not the Youtubers or Instagramers or TikTokers.
Instead of curating a social media feed with “influencers,” I want to open myself to be influenced by the ordinary people that I admire in my day to day life.
Here are some of the ordinary people influencing me these days:
The barista at the cafe I frequent, and the way she makes drinks with such composure and warmth.
The woman who cuts my hair– a single mom running a very successful salon.
That one woman I always see running the opposite direction around the lake when I go for jogs, and the camaraderie I feel with her though we’ve never exchanged words
The little girl at the farmers market with her face painted, pretending she’s a cat named Elsa, and her completely shameless creative play.
What about you— who are the offline, non-influencer “influencers” in your life? What is it about them speaks to you?
Interesting and inspiring humans are everywhere if we’re looking.
I searched my camera roll for a photo of Shari but I all I found was a pic of the time I took my twin brother to get his eyebrows done by her. You can just barely see her in the background.
Here’s his before:
And after:
Shari’s hand gently resting on his chin says it all.
xoxo
Leah
Shari and Didi!! I remember hearing so many stories about Shari ! And I still remember the time I had Shabbat with you at Didi’s house and how welcoming it felt, especially to me who is not of Jewish faith.
I loved that! I wish I had a Shari in my life.