By Erica HellersteinAngelica's hair salon on Valencia and 21st doesn't look like the rest of the trendy boutiques sprinkled along the block. It doesn't boast artisan coffee, whimsical stationary, or silky leather boots. A simple white sign juts out from the window, reading, 'Angelica's,' in red bubble letters, and in black print below, 'Hair Salon.' That's it. And on this street of perfectly curated aesthetically pleasing everything, the simplicity of it all dares you to step inside.
Creak. The door lurches open to reveal a tiny room with a steady flow of customers. The walls are papered with framed pictures of haircuts, a Diego Rivera poster peeps out from the back room and a gold-embossed Virgin Mary painting hangs above three flowers drenched in red.
Angelica, the salon's only hairdresser for the afternoon, is diligently trimming, teasing, and styling hair of all textures and hues: wispy, fluffy, kinky, the occasional male buzz cut. She looks like her name, an Angelica, with wavy dirty blonde hair pulled into a half ponytail, a dainty nose, and full brown eyebrows.
On any given weekend afternoon, the no-frills hair salon is crowded with customers. READ MORE
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