My high school sweetheart and I decided to take the plunge moving to Los Angeles together in the summer of 1982 where I chose to pursue my dream of becoming a rock star.
Sari had long, straight, thick chocolate brown hair that she took a great deal of pride in caring for. She had the kind of hair that women envied and that men found to be very attractive, especially when she wore it down, flowing over her tanned, bikini-clad body at the pool or beach.
One summer following some personnel changes in my band, Cafe Society, I was left with a string of upcoming club gigs and no keyboard player until one evening at rehearsal while taking a break, I suddenly heard my song “Other Men” being played on the keyboard. Walking back inside the garage, I was pleasantly surprised seeing Sari there playing the tune as if she had written it herself. Sari said that after spending so much time at my band rehearsals she felt as if she knew the songs as well as anyone and seeing how the keyboard parts and solos weren’t terribly complicated, she offered to fill in until we found a permanent replacement.
Needless to say Sari became the permanent replacement and while having a female keyboard player in a pop band in the 1980s wasn’t exactly groundbreaking, she fit in very well, played well and looked great on stage. Long hair and all.
But these were the 80s, and Madonna, Bananarama and Whitney Houston all sported short, gel-stiffened hairdos and Sari began thinking that her stage persona might suit a shorter, more stylish mane.
I suggested that before cutting her gorgeous long hair she go to a salon for a consultation. I remembered that my great-uncle Harry Felix always talked about a nephew of his, Allen Edwards, who had made a name for himself—alongside renowned Hollywood hairstylist and film producer Jon Peters, famous for having dated Barbra Streisand in the early 70s—as a salon owner and hairstylist to the rich and famous. So one day I called my uncle Harry and he arranged for Sari to get a private one-on-one consultation with his famous nephew at his Rodeo Drive flagship salon in Beverly Hills.
Sari and I were both nervous and excited the day the personal consultation with “the” Allen Edwards arrived and we dressed up in our Sunday best and headed to Beverly Hills. When we arrived at the salon we informed the receptionist that we had an appointment with Allen and she asked us to have a seat in the waiting area. She soon returned saying that it would be a few minutes and asked if we would like a glass of wine or a cup of coffee or tea, which we kindly declined. After having waited there unattended for nearly thirty minutes, another young woman appeared apologizing for the wait and asked us to come with her.
She led us upstairs to Allen’s private studio where we imagined the likes of Sally Field, Raquel Welch, Anne Bancroft and Suzanne Somers would get their hair designed by Allen Edwards himself. We were directed to a small, richly appointed waiting area where we sat on a beautiful Italian sofa, and after waiting another half hour yet another woman appeared saying that Allen was finishing up with a client and would be over in just a few minutes.
About ten minutes later Allen Edwards rushed in shook our hands and apologized for keeping us waiting. He asked Sari to come over and have a seat in the swivel chair that was beside the sofa. He stood back then approached Sari running his fingers through her hair, stepped back and said, “cut it.” He then thanked us for coming and told us to see the receptionist downstairs who would make Sari an appointment at the Allen Edwards Salon in Woodland Hills, near to where we lived in the Valley.
That was the long—and short—of Sari’s consultation with the famous Allen Edwards. And yes, she did cut her hair. Short. And in the hottest and most highly demanded woman’s hair style of the day fashioned after the hairdos worn by Morgan Fairchild, Donna Mills and Sally Field.