Silent haircuts and closeted queer celebrities
An unexpected combination
Last week, I had one of the most enjoyable haircuts of my life—in silence.
In my last essay, I shared the context for why a silent haircut had such appeal, but I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would it be awkward?
When I walked in, my lovely stylist, Katie, was still with her last client. I started reading my book on the salon’s green velvet couch, which was covered in a confetti of half-inch black hairs. By the time Katie called me back to her chair, I was antsy to keep reading.
After we chatted about our plans for my hair, Katie brought me to the shampoo chair. It was there that I realized I was feeling a little skittish, talking more quickly than my typical, already rapid pace.
In retrospect, I was feeling awkward that I wasn’t going to follow the usual social script for a haircut, almost like I needed to be chattier in advance to make up for the time in which I’d have my earphones in later.
Katie seemed unfazed.
Once we were back at the chair, my hair dripping occasionally down the black drape she looped around my neck, I put my earphones in and took my book back out.
I was immediately transported into Celia Laskey’s latest literary world, Cover Story. Set in the early aughts, a publicist is hired to keep her queer client in the closet but falls in love with her instead.
The social cost of closeted celebrities is something I hadn’t considered but found myself pondering. In both the protagonist’s story and in interviews about her own experience about coming out late in life, Laskey describes how more openly queer celebrities would transform public perception and normalize queer identity.
In the afterward, Laskey writes that even in 2025, twenty years after the book’s storyline takes place, there are precious few openly queer A-list celebrities. Given social science data about the rates of queer identity, there are likely a lot more queer celebrities than the handful we know about.
Cover Story left me wondering about my own journey of publicly coming out as queer at thirty-seven. How might my experience have been different if I’d been exposed to the unapologetically queer confidence of Chappell Roan instead of the horrifically commodified sexuality of Britney Spears.
In my most formative years, the only mainstream portrayals of queerness were either punchlines or performance art for the male gaze.
Our celebrities were teenage girls who were concurrently celebrated and punished for their hyper-sexualized public images.
What would it have been like to have mainstream vocal, openly queer role models instead? Would I have recognized and embraced my own sexuality sooner?
How many celebrities remain in the closet, even today?
Suddenly, Katie tapped my shoulder to let me know she’d finished.
I was so lost in Cover Story, my musings, and Spotify’s Low-fi Beats playlist, I’d forgotten where I was. Completely immersed in my reverie, it was as though I’d fallen asleep on the massage table and woke up, surprised to learn the appointment was over.
As Katie brushed my own hair confetti from my neckline, she asked how the silent haircut had felt for me. I said it was marvelous.
“It’s all about the experience you want to have,” she told me. “This is your time. I have some clients who have to work, others who, like you, bring a book. It’s whatever you want.”
I doubt I’ll always choose a silent haircut in the future. Sometimes, the chatter is just what I’m craving.
In my favorite haircut of all time, a stylist told me scene-by-scene what happened in the final episodes of Succession. Having watched the first few seasons, I knew the characters well but hadn’t followed the storyline. It felt like catching up on wildly salacious gossip. “Geri did what?!?!”
In another, my stylist and I chatted about a speech I had in a few days, workshopping some of the more nuanced components with my stylist as a thought partner.
Each instance felt like a joyful connection. But, for this haircut, I craved a more internal experience.
Like the rate at which celebrities are currently closeted, it feels like a revelation to know silent haircuts are an option—one I’ll feel empowered to choose in the future.
Big hugs,
Lelia
Upcoming Get Sh*t Done Days
in Partnership with Salon22
Have tedious tasks you just can’t seem to finish? To-do list items that you keep procrastinating on? Join me for a grown-up study date to get shit done.
Tuesday, July 8
10-12:30 in-person
Salon22 (2407 Bienville St.)
Thursday, July 24
11-12pm
Zoom
Hey Lelia! Great post! I had a book when I was in my thirties about closeted celebrities from the 40s and 50s (I think that was the time). Also, I love the thought of a silent haircut. All salons should have that option. I have RSVPd for the GSD day. I really like the space at Salon22. I recently did SEO for their website. I don't know if they took any of what I said into consideration though :-) I gave them a report.