This Kansas City hair salon returns to bringing joy, beauty to area seniors
Natasha Griswold twirls the gray hair of Marla Temaat into dainty curls, a few inches at a time.
Hairspray, and repeat.
With a comb, she gently and carefully teases and textures each curl.
Hairspray, and repeat.
Marla is 83 years old and finally getting back to her regular routine, after a stressful and traumatic year, of getting her hair done.
For the last year, seniors in assisted living and care facilities have been locked away from family and friends. Many care facilities faced severe outbreaks of COVID-19. They couldn’t leave their rooms. They waved to family through glass, their only outlet to the outside world.
Griswold started the salon, Elder Hair Care, a little more than 12 years ago. When the pandemic forced businesses to close, she worried for her stylists, now out of work, and for the seniors they serve.
“We need each other’s energy,” she said. “You can’t separate the energies... You need each other for growth and love.”
In February, this salon, which serves seniors across Kansas City, reopened. Griswold estimates she served more than 400 people when Elder Hair Care opened up its doors, and each one she welcomed just as they were.
When it first reopened, some came in with hair so out of control it was in their eyes and they couldn’t see properly. Others walked in in tears.
Her first time back, Marla felt like crying. She could barely stand the wait to feel beautiful again, she says, let alone having missed the connection they shared.
Joan O’Neal, 80, sat in the the chair just opposite her on a recent Wednesday morning waiting her turn. For her, this haircut felt almost as important as eating. It was the fourth time she’d been in since it reopened; the first time she could sit in the salon with someone else. And she would be back the next week.
Neither woman had been able to wash or style their own hair during the pandemic — age and arthritis have limited their range of movement. This salon, the friendship they build inside, is everything.
When Marla enters, it feels like a home. She comes in and just says “silly, crazy things.” These women keep Griswold on her toes, she said.
Griswold is open and caring, “and she’s a friend,” Marla said through her dark polka dotted mask donned with white and blue flowers.
“Your best friend, right?” Griswold asked.
“You betcha,” Marla responded. Then again, a little louder. “You betcha! Except you’re too quiet.”
Marla remembers things about Griswold that she forgets about herself.
With Griswold there to make them “look lovely,” getting old isn’t that bad, Marla said.
“That’s true,” Joan chimed in, as they share a laugh.
Griswold combs back the hair that sits over Marla’s ear, as jazz plays in the background. Hairspray, then repeat. She moves to combing the hair on the back of her head.
“It feels beautiful. Is it beautiful yet?” Marla asked.
“Yes,” Griswold assured her, “it’s beautiful.”
Griswold, 39, shares the wisdom she picks up in the salon with her friends, who call her grandma. She likes to say she has more 100-year-old friends than friends her age. From them, she’s learned to just be in the moment and take each day one step at a time. It’s one of the best pieces of advice she’s ever gotten.
She carefully shapes the hair around Marla’s face. Hairspray, and repeat.
Griswold picks up Marla’s glasses from the counter behind her. Marla hands her a check.
Griswold holds Marla’s hand as she moves from the chair to her wheelchair making sure she does so gracefully, and without incident.
Marla blows Griswold a kiss and says “I love you” before leaving. A sign on the back of the chair that takes her everywhere reads “80-ish and still jazzy,” the -ish scrawled in marker.
When she leaves, she feels renewed. Beautiful.
Griswold then takes Joan’s hand, helping her into the chair. She leans Joan back, adjusting her head to wash her hair, before adding mousse. Another client calls her. She’ll be coloring the hair of another client later that day. But right now she returns her focus to Joan, blow drying her hair.
She takes Joan’s hair in hand, gently curling it around the wand. The jazz continues and Joan rests her eyes as Griswold works her magic. An essential piece of life she’s missed over the last year fills her soul.
Hairspray, and repeat.
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