The blank movie theatre marquee, closed houses of worship, and an American flag at half staff were solemn reminders of these uncertain days, as I drove to buy groceries. An errand like this had become a special outing. When Governor Gina Raimondo outlined the travel restrictions for Rhode Islanders during the current period of social distancing, I rallied behind her. When Mayor Joseph Solomon listed essential services, I made an oath to be a good citizen. Grocery stores, doctors' offices, pharmacies, and even liquor stores topped the list. I would abide by that, and I continued reading. "A haircut is not essential," Solomon stated in his closing remarks. I reread the last sentence. "A haircut is not essential," full stop. "Maybe not for everyone..." I thought to myself. "Maybe not a haircut...but what about hair color?!" I said aloud, because in a matter of weeks, I was going to look like a skunk. I scanned the list of businesses on the City of Warwick's website which would be open during this tentative time frame. Restaurants (delivery or carry-out only), laundromats, dry cleaners...To my relief, hair salons had made the cut. The caveat was if a salon was crowded, the client would be asked to return when the salon was less busy. That was reasonable. I called my doctor's office to cancel my annual physical. Would I like to reschedule? (Actually, no, as images of blue paper gowns and a nurse recording my weight on a hallway scale floated by.) I called my dentist's office to cancel my extra dental cleaning. That was easy. (Last time my usual hygienist had the day off, and her colleague had assigned me a lower grade in my chart.) With much trepidation, I next called my hair salon. The owner answered, and volunteered that he understood if I wanted to cancel my appointment. It would have been far easier if he'd canceled on me. Now I'd rely on my conscience. He said he'd been monitoring the Rhode Island Department of Health's website daily for any changes. It was a tense time, we agreed, and both wanted to follow protocol. At this point the salon would remain open, he told me. So I kept what would probably be my last scheduled hair appointment for the foreseeable future. The salon had been open an hour when I arrived, and I was offered a cape, a pair of gloves, and a face mask upon entry. It was quiet, I discovered, noting one other client. When I emerged from the dressing room Frank, my hairdresser, and I were in uniform. He maintained brief contact as he worked his magic with his color palette on the crown of my head. Before I was directed to the hair dryer, the other owner washed the chair (and the two beside it as well) with antibacterial cleaner, even though she'd done so at closing time the night before. Instead of giving me his usual hug and helping me on with my coat, Frank and I smiled and waved goodbye from six feet apart after I paid. My visits had been a luxury. For Frank, his livelihood. By Monday, March 23rd, on the Rhode Island government Facebook page, Governor Raimondo declared any businesses where employees would be in close contact with patrons must be closed, and this included hair salons. In the coming weeks I'd be relying on a knit hat (or my Red Sox cap on warmer days) to conceal the top of my head, in the spirit of the American women of the 1940s, who drew lines down the backs of their legs with eyeliner to mimic hosiery. Perhaps women's millinery will once again appear in vogue.