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An odd scenario to most, it is commonplace for the 35-year-old stealth stylist and his ad hoc clientele. Referred to by some Hollywood locals as "The Hair Cowboy," the "Homeless Haircutter," and "The Picasso of Haircutters," Saul politely approaches people in bookstores, restaurants, bars, clubs, and on the street asking if he can cut their hair on the spot for $20. He's got more charm than training--he apprenticed for a hairdresser in Zimbabwe at age 16-- but he persuades plenty of people to take a chance. "He's good-looking. He's got these piercing eyes and he knows style," says Annie Shirinian, a client he met at the Pig n' Whistle restaurant in Hollywood. Saul carries his own cape and makes his volunteers stand for the duration of the dry cut (anywhere from seven minutes to three hours). Unlike traditional stylists, he does not trim straight across. As his client holds still he pulls hard in the direction of hair growth and snips at an angle using the lines of the face as a compass. Little hair comes off but the hairdo appears healthier and more stylized. "It's an interactive cut in that I can't get it without the person holding strong," explains Saul.
He had initially approached "Mrs. Ramone" at The Highlands club in Hollywood. He has been known to corral customers at other nightspots such as Ivar and Star Shoes. One bartender at the latter admits, "He gets us into trouble sometimes because he's doing it in the bathroom when it's busy." She recalls having had to clear the small lavatory on one occasion as four women, crammed inside, waited in line for Saul to cut their hair. "Cutting hair has opened a lot of doors," says Saul, who admits that his true calling is acting. "I've met so many different genres of people here in LA, everywhere." Born in New York to an interracial couple, he has lived and cut in South Africa, Germany and France. In the latter, says Saul, "I played a musician in a popular television show called Helen and the Boys." He apparently managed to squeeze in some haircuts for cast members, and to do a little modeling for clothing designer Jean-Paul Gaultier to boot. "I came back to New York [in 2001] and I went from being a star in France to being nothing," he says, dejected. Eventually he returned to cutting hair.It was in Washington Square Park that he first tried his special technique. He describes the scene: the client's waist-length tresses blowing in the wind, like some urban Boticelli painting. A year later, Saul moved to Los Angeles where his capricious cuts suit the city's pie-in-the-sky fantasies. "I don't want to be a mommy anymore," says 29-year-old Setta Casillan, as he chops her hair in the private bathroom of Pig n' Whistle restaurant in Hollywood, "Make me a rock star!" Like some "Midnight Cowboy," Kanu Saul came to LA with a knock'em dead smile and lofty dreams. Still, some might prefer that he wake up from his contagious reverie. Rick Lopes, a spokesman for the California Board of Barbering and Cosmetology, seems intent on seeing Saul get a license. "There are some serious health, safety and sanitation concerns here. If we have to take actions to get him to stop, we'll do that," he admonishes. But even urban cowboys need sheriffs. They make the fight worth fighting. |