Spend money, feel better at Salon Pop and Barber Shop
By Ellen Griley

PHOTO by ROSHEILA ROBLES

Rare is the occasion when kindred spirits factor into commerce. You have money and need something. Someone has what you need and needs money. An exhange is made. And that’s it. Except paying for things—anything: a hammer, a turkey, a car—feels so much better when you like the person doing the selling. Under the right circumstances, forking over your cash can even feel downright blissful.

Consumers are selfish. We want to feel like we’re helping out a friend—like our money matters: here, take my money, old chum. It’s what makes money feel just a bit more decent, maybe not so evil, and when you realize this, you begin to look out for those kindred spirits everywhere—the car wash, the bakery, the salon.

Obviously, the salon: it’s one of the few places where you pay someone to break your personal space. It’s natural that you’ll chit-chat and make friendly. Yet in the past I’d always staved off talky hairstylists—fear of getting too chummy, I suppose—finding solace in one who barely spoke. My mistake, I realized, within seconds (literally) of stepping foot inside Salon Pop and Barber Shop. Nicole Welke (one of the owners and the salon’s manicurist/pedicurist) met me at the door, a pleasant smile on her face. “Are you Ellen?” she asked, and for whatever reason—could’ve been her blue, flowy, Little Salon on the Prairie dress, her sweet voice, or maybe just that Neko Case’s Blacklisted was playing on the stereo—my heart warmed.

Next, she offered me a drink (tea, water, beer—heart soared some more) and introduced me to Eva Marie, another co-owner and the woman to whom I would entrust my hair for the next 60 minutes. Sitting with my Newcastle in a comfy vintage chair (everything is vintage at Salon Pop, from the ’30s and ’40s vanities at each station to the barber chairs to framed ’60s paintings of big-eyed children), I attempted to give Eva a little direction while hinting that she was free to experiment. “Got it,” she nodded, and went to work.

There is so much to marvel at inside Salon Pop—a fake red fireplace that lights up and doubles as a heater; the custom-built, Naugahyde pedicure throne; and those barber chairs that recline all the way back for straight razor shaves (“It looks like surgery,” Eva says)—that conversation flows easily. You could spend an hour just chatting about these pieces—even the paint on the walls (a muted pea soup and rich sea foam green) is cause for celebration.

So we did, while Eva sang along with Neko, read my mind and delivered exactly what I’d been looking for: Jane Fonda’s booking photo gone soft, slightly curled at the tips and a bit longer around the face. She also prescribed up keep: a wash and blow-dry twice or three times a week plus hot curlers. Afterward, I met Leslie Sundal, the salon’s third owner and house esthetician. Inside her room (where she does facials and body wraps—try the back facial [$85] or salt glow wrap [$75]), there was a framed print of one of Tretchkoff’s green ladies—the same print my sister has. See? Kindred.

But by far the best part of my day with the Salon Pop ladies was how I felt hours later, sitting at home. The new hair glow had yet to fade, but it was more than my bangs making me beam: it was the memory of Eva singing as Nicole looked on, smiling—absolutely downright blissful.

SALON POP & BARBER SHOP 1085 REDONDO | LONG BEACH 90804 | 562.987.9200 | SALONPOPANDBARBERSHOP.COM