When Sandra Bullock sits in Garren`s chair and inspects her reflection in Garren`s mirror, her face—dark eyes, creamy skin, a Norman arrangement of bones—betrays none of the excitement, trepidation and emotional turmoil normally associated with a woman about to go under the straight razor for a look-changing haircut and highlights. But Sandra—or Sandy, as she likes to be called—has come prepared. "I`ve brought pictures," she says, reaching into her Marc Jacobs Stella bag for pages torn from magazines: Angela Lindvall looking rocker-tousled for a Chanel accessories campaign, the Dixie Chicks looking as if the country sun has accidentally lightened their locks. That`s what Sandy wants Garren to contrive: the uncontrived mane of a girl who has spent one afternoon too many at the lake, and one night too many with the boys from the garage band next door. "I have pictures, too," Garren counters, bringing out a shot of a very young model with a sunlit auburn mane, and a shot of a Garren-shorn, chop-chop-shagged Cindy Crawford at a party. Sandy and Garren smile: They`re now totally in cahoots.
Garren begins to razor Sandy`s hair, aided and abetted by an assistant who changes the blade every few slices. The locks of hair—chemically straightened in the eight-hour Japanese method to save hair-chair time during the filming of Two Weeks Notice—drift to the floor like small black feathers. Old Sandy, the woman who turned up at New York`s most elite salon wearing baggy-tushed Abercrombie & Fitch jeans, a nondescript down jacket, and Nikes, is shedding her feathers, and a new, chicer creature—let`s call her Sandra—is emerging. Garren`s cut is the culmination of a month in which Bullock has gamely tried out the persona of the fashion-forward actress. She showed her face (front row, of course) at three Spring 2003 catwalk shows (Marc Jacobs, Calvin Klein, Donna Karan), shared a "****tail laugh"—Bullock`s term for that head-thrown-back, wide-mouthed chortle in which she specializes—with oh-so-in backstage crowds, and submitted to the ultimate fashion education: several hours of fittings with Vogue`s André Leon Talley. (From whom else would you learn that Garbo in Camille wore only hotel
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