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Mr. Haute Coiffure  available July 23, 2016

https://www.jehrschiavo.com/MR-HAUTE-COIFFURE

Anyone looking for a fresh and illuminating read -- check out my dear friend Jehr Schiavo's new oeuvre, Mr Haute Coiffure. I promise you won't be disappointed. Jehr is a creative genius who has been at the cutting edge of the industry for over three decades. His story and philosophy is groundbreaking -- Abigail M.

A book by a friend of mine! I have only read portions but I like the cover design, and appreciate Jehr's unique perspective. A long time ago I read a collection of short stories by someone named Guillaume Apollinaire who was this kind of surrealist poet and writer back when surrealism and cubism were making their place in art history. To me, Jehr and the surrealist poet have something in common ... I need a bit of this spice to season my perspective once in a while so I'll be looking forward to thumbing through it -- Mark M.

Thrilled to support Mr. Haute Coiffure; it's exciting to hear a fresh voice from the beauty industry -- Caraluna V.

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FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:CELEBRATED HAIRSTYLIST PUBLISHES COMPELLING FIRST BOOK

A nonfiction beauty, health, and awareness manifesto, Mr. Haute Coiffure pierces the underbelly of a beauty industry unchecked, and denounces associated corporate overlords. Currently available for preorder at mrhautecoiffure.com, followed by a July 23, 2016 launch. Jehr Schiavo, a celebrated nonconformist-hairstylist-raconteur, began his revolutionary ride four decades ago in San Francisco styling punk rock’s aristocracy for stage, print, music videos,  film, television, and runway. He and his work have been recognized in such publications as Allure, Details, Elle,  The New York Times, and Vogue Italia. Schiavo’s acerbic wit and memorable turns of phrase carry Mr. Haute Coiffure’s readers through a series of vignettes which challenge the hypocrisy and excesses of the international beauty-industrial complex. Schiavo, writing under the nom de plume Gerard Saint d’Angelo, proposes a radical shift to the current state of affairs, in which women (and men) are force-fed powerful messages by society and media to turn themselves into unattainable images, their insecurity the fuel which powers the capitalist machine. Schiavo is an artist with hair as his medium and his patrons’ life stories as his muse; with only his shears, comb, and water he creates hairstyles which allow his patrons to express their inner beauty.  The enigmatic Schiavo says, “Structured walls are outside the domain of Mr. Haute Coiffure’s satisfaction; I despised an industry riddled with greed, displaying petty integrity, if any at all. My publication urges idiosyncratic modifications that may indeed provide indelible inner beauty.” Schiavo eliminated toxic chemicals in his atelier salons, shunned ordinary styling potions, invalidated typical heat tools — blow dryer, curling and  flat irons — deconstructed predecessor Vidal Sassoon’s harsh geometric edges, and banished the archaic notion that any salon should require mirrored reflection before clients — alternatively permitting open space for vibrant contemporary art exhibitions. Presently, he continues writing while traveling between delivering chic, effortless, healthy, sustainable Jehrcuts to select patrons who commission him in Los Angeles, New York and San Francisco.

Excerpts from Mr. Haute Coiffure by Jehr Schiavo writing as Gerard Saint D'Angelo

What mental image Jeanette I’m certain would prefer over visualizing my brushing Jean’s hair behind an inclined hospital bed, connected alive by mankind’s eerie medical monitors, could be picturing those glorious occasions now fifty-four years ago: age four, standing atop our dinette kitchen chair — Master Haute Coiffure, brush in hand, gently sliding strokes through her Ava Gardner hairstyle before she kissed me goodnight — then rushing off to work. Any salon, beauty store, or health food grocer selling so-called organic and natural hair color should also stock on their establishment’s shelves cans of gelatinous Spam. Neither hair dye nor processed meat are chemical-free; don’t believe me, go buy the Brooklyn Bridge.

Red carpet pre-ceremonies drag on for the duration it takes to present that year’s Academy Awards, a two-hour feature-length fashion designer advertising maneuver — Hollywood’s successful and profitable marriage with Madison Avenue. Many’s acceptance of how they look through aging had not proved effective; stepping outdoors, googling plastic surgeon possibilities, this future patient then begs for a nose similar to Jennifer Lawrence, pouty Naomi Campbell lips, ninnies matching Scarlett Johansson’s voluptuous rack this year, sometime thereafter requesting her reduction — an adorable peach-sized Charlize Theron cup.

I hadn’t once over the course of thirty years inquired nor thought about who cut Roberta’s hair. She lived in the remnants of what was North Beach’s formerly thriving Italian neighborhood. I took for granted that she’d probably seen the same hairdresser in a discreet, oldschool holdout beauty parlor. Before leaving Roberta told us she hadn’t been to a professional hairstylist since she left Italy forty-six years ago; by then in Roberta’s final years nearly blind, this captivating woman had been cutting her own hair.

My patron’s emotions said everything, she questioned us, urgently wanting positive affirmation — should go without saying, being genuinely fussed over after transformation is part of the fee, that’s a given. How a woman can suddenly look fifteen pounds lighter, at least that in years, significantly more attractive by apparent joy alone, materialized metamorphosis with her newly uncovered personal beauty’s ownership.

JEHR SCHIAVO #beautywithin--------
877 SCHIAVO | (310) 601-6116

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