I celebrated the National Natural Hair MeetUp Day with A Tribe Called Curl at their rooftop event in a trendy part of Brooklyn, inhabited by coffee shops, eateries touting cultural cuisine, and sidewalk cafés. Met at the door by registration, three of our vanilla flavored sisters wondered if this was indeed the place. I tipped my Kangol – “If you are celebrating National Natural Hair Meet Up Day indeed it is.“ Though a more unlikely trio you would not have found, these three ladies proved to be filled with questions, thirsty for knowledge and fueled by failed attempts to capture the curls of their youth and united in their resolve to liberate themselves from the daily task of blow drying and or flat ironing their hair. Needless to say I have three new curly girl friends.
- This afternoon’s events included several small discussions with groups of 4-5 women. A lot of product knowledge spread around. Across the room my eyes locked and I was transported through a wormhole in the fabric of time – Could it be Tamara Dobson (and I don’t mean the Tamara Dobson post-Cleopatra Jones)? I mean one and the same, frozen in time with That Fro. The sexiest of all fros, from the beginning of time to this very moment a fro unparalleled in its ability to mesmerize any human being.
- I extended my hand – “I know you must hear this a hundred times a day” and before I uttered the words she had already said yes, so I kept my Cleopatra Jones reference to myself. Instead I asked her name and she was who I suspected – her pictures do her no justice. Karen is someone you have to see in person. We were panel mates on the rooftop, and between us we seemed to have solved the problems and answered most questions.
Back to Lewis Avenue and the night was in full swing – I still had a presentation to give and giveaways to distribute. That was done in grand style amid applause, finger snaps, pictures and promises. At eleven I called it a day well done; I was tired to the core, but enriched to the pinnacle.