i know it’s not something you really need to hear—i’m just one of many fans—but can I just take the opportunity on this comments section to say, i really love how you brush your hair, the way you form a hard part in the middle, your smooth mane of blonde strands sliding away from your crown in perfect waterfalls against your naked shoulders. i love your videos—the sound of mist leaving the spray bottle as tiny drops of water alight on your head, the soft purr of the hairbrush as it moves from crown to shoulder. with my headphones against my ears, the rest of the world shut out, i can find a moment of calm listening to you. my husband doesn’t understand when I say this but I don’t think there’s anything as comforting as that anymore

sometimes you have your sister Sarah comb her fingers through your hair. she rolls her fingertips off your scalp and gently squeezes a section of hair between her hands. she sprays product from a blue plastic bottle onto your head and then she smoothes the liquid into the ends, clamping and releasing them in her palms (Sarah has said what’s in the bottle is a sea salt spray she made herself and I appreciate that too, your DIY sensibility) sometimes Sarah sticks her fingers beneath your hair and massages your scalp in soft sweet circles—there’s nothing more relaxing than a head massage but the sound of fingers moving around in circles on scalp, the easy rustling of hair, is pretty good, too.

my daughter loved haircuts, especially the shampoo part. at three and four years old she would convince her father and me to take her to the hair salon at least once a month. she would say, her head resting against the indent of the porcelain bowl, “mom, you have to try this. it’s unbelievable!” even when her thick curls started coming apart in our hands, the stylist would take her clippers and trim the air around my baby’s head—all I could hear was the sound of the clippers moving through silence (a torment) —and my baby would close her eyes and smize—you know, what Tyra Banks calls it when you smile with your eyes, not your mouth, that gesture when your smile is trying to leave your body and connect with another smile inside someone else—and she looked just beatific, like an angel.