If I were stranded on a deserted island, the items I would need for survival are as follows: food, clothing, shelter, hairstylist. No seriously, it's THAT important. I was overdue for a haircut by a technical 2 weeks (I have an every 8-weeks habit), but oh Lord, it was killing me. My husband can attest. I was not a happy girl.

Having gone to the same fabulous stylist for 13 years, I was not particularly looking forward to finding a new one in my new hometown. Not that I didn't think Boston could provide a really good one; it's just that, as a friend's mom recently said, finding a good hairstylist is harder than finding a good doctor.

So I began internet research. I picked three potential salons on Newbury Street (comparable to Rodeo Drive or Fifth Avenue. I'm a hair snob). I called Salon A. I explained my dilemma to the receptionist, who kindly described a couple of their stylists whose profiles I had seen online. She asked if I wanted to make an appointment. I thanked her and said no, I was going to call a couple of other places and perhaps get back to her later. She seemed confused. I worried for the next couple of days and then abandoned the thought of going to Salon A because their website didn't work well and most of the stylists' work was summed up as "conservative". I like edgy hair.

Moving onto Salon B: they have a good website, show actual work (though mostly updos), describe each stylist's style and resume, and show pictures of the salon. Internet research of Salon C yielded a fantastic website, one picture of the salon, very high prices ($125 and up), no descriptions of individual stylists, and potential hair modeling experiences (you get your hair cut for free if you get on the list and let them do whatever they want. It's a great deal if you trust the stylist and don't mind sitting around for awhile). Very chic website, but artistically, it seemed like a very rigid culture.

After pondering for several days, I decided to call Salon B. Again, I explained my dilemma to the receptionist, who kindly described one of the stylists whose profile interested me online. Her name is Liz Leary. She has been doing hair since she was 17, used to work at Salon C, and her "Rock and Roll Haircuts" have been featured on dailycandy.com, plus she has great hair. The receptionist assured me that she was creative and intuitive, and that she cuts her (the receptionist's) hair, so of course she trusts her. Feeling a match in my gut, I made an appointment.

I got my hair cut by Liz Leary yesterday. This Cape Cod native, a mere 23 years old, knows her stuff. She asked what I wanted to do with my hair, and I gave her a suggestion. But then I asked her what SHE wanted to do with my hair. She liked my idea and elaborated on it. That made me feel good. I asked about the salon culture at Salon B (creative freedom, good working atmosphere), why she left Salon C (yes, it is WAY rigid), what is Bumble and Bumble (by whom she has been partly trained), her family, what she likes in Boston, etc. She is a very cool girl.

After leaving the salon, I was not two blocks down the road, on my way to Starbucks for a drink and lunch, when a very handsomely dressed black man smiled and stopped me. "I like your style," he said, standing in his expensive gray suit. "It's sophisticated. Sophisticated and... simple." I paused, smiled, and thanked him for the compliment. Then I told him about the Sartorialist, a man who started a blog about street fashion in New York, later got hired by GQ, and now travels the world cataloguing street fashion. He thanked me enthusiastically for the tip, and introduced himself as Michael. "Mandy," I replied, shaking his hand. I thanked him again for the compliment and went on my way to Starbucks.

I have definitely found my new hairstylist.