the Mom Car Selfie as a symbol of love

An afternoon at the salon opened my eyes to the profundity of the "basic" selfie and how it transcends our culture's surface-level self-care

I wasn’t judging.

I didn’t get it, but I certainly wasn’t passing judgment on the selfies moms post after a cut and color. You know the images, where the mom is rocking fresh hair while enjoying a big (usually Starbucks) coffee in the driver’s seat. The ones where the mom is so obviously alone in the car, probably listening to her favorite non-Paw Patrol song blasting on repeat. I didn’t understand, but the moms in those selfies look so happy, so when their stories appeared on Instagram, I took a second to feel happy for them, and then clicked on through to the next thing.

Dear reader, I finally understand the Mom Car Selfie.

Recently, I spent the afternoon with Rachel, my hair stylist-friend¹, who I hadn’t seen since February. You read that correctly. When Rachel welcomed me to her chair in early August, I hadn’t been to the salon since temperatures dipped below 40 and the skies were thick with southwestern Pennsylvania’s winter clouds. Since I’d last seen Rachel, my hair had died a thousand deaths, thanks to my cutie pie son who pulls out fistfuls of once-natural blonde curls, chews my hair, drools in my hair, manages to get bits of his baby food mashed into my hair. Not even the messy bun I wear nearly 24/7 could save it. My hair, simply put, had been through the ringer. It was time I added some color, shine and bounce to the top of my head.

Before heading to the appointment, I changed out of my mom uniform, a pair of black athletic shorts and some old race t-shirt, and into a summery orange dress, slipped on a pair of white Adidas tennis shoes, and threw on earrings—an accessory I’ve given up since becoming a mom—because why not. My body buzzed with excitement at the prospect of going somewhere other than a walk around the block, stroller leading the way. Maybe I was only going to the salon, but my salon is a chic establishment lit with chandeliers, that serves hot coffee, and, as I pulled out of the driveway, I couldn’t help feeling like I was heading out on an adventure.

The adventure, of course, began after dropping my son off with his aunt, who graciously agreed to babysit. With the car to myself, I switched off the classical music and turned on Taylor Swift, who I refuse to expose my baby to, but whose music I still really like. (Remember the thing about not judging? *smiley face*) I sang along. Loudly. Poorly. Joyfully. Until I reached my destination, where Rachel’s warm, dazzling smile greeted me. She told me to make myself comfortable in her chair while she grabbed me ice-cold water. For the next two hours, as Rachel covered my head in foils, washed and dried and styled my hair, we chatted about her summer vacation south, to Florida; about our recent reads and her current Netflix binges; about our dogs and the salon’s floundering bonsai tree. While my color set, I scrolled social media, and read a short story on Substack, and answered a text message—all guilt-free.

At the end of the appointment, Rachel set my curls. As the hairspray settled, I peeked in the mirror, where a woman I hadn’t seen in some time stared back. She was a new mom in a bright dress with clean, blonde curls framing a smiling face. Her eyes were tired, but happy. Her heart, you could tell, overflowed with joy after an afternoon of wonderful conversation, uninterrupted by the sweetest, toddling little boy.

I smiled at her and then scheduled my next appointment and then, with a light, albeit ungraceful step, danced into the coffee shop next door for a white raspberry mocha, quite the treat, after months of drinking potfulls of Aldi coffee² . Hot drink in hand, I slipped into the driver’s seat, turned on the radio, and started belting out tunes while the scent of salon hair filled the car.

I took a selfie.

Not in the car. But when I got home, I, hair done, going-out outfit on, hurried up and snapped a selfie. As I pressed the big white Apple iPhone shutter button, it hit me, why Millennial moms stop, drop and selfie with their Starbs after a trip to the salon. We spend all day, every day, pouring ourselves into our children. It is the most fulfilling role in the world, motherhood. But every once in a while, it feels good to drop the kiddo off with a sitter and spend time at the salon, where your hair stylist-friend cares for you in a way you can’t care for yourself. Where your hair stylist, through brightening your roots and smoothing and styling your hair, through listening and through sharing her own stories, experiences and opinions, reminds you that, though your identity is now “mother,” you are also “you.” You as a mother may have less time for self-care, but, your hairdresser reminds you, you are still an individual, a reader, a dreamer, a Swiftie, a friend. You are still worth caring for.

If you’re a Millennial mom running on the sheer joy of parenthood, and also fumes, this is your sign to book a hair appointment. This is your reminder that it feels good, every once in a while, to leave the salon, curls bouncing, and drink a hot, fancy coffee, and sing your favorite songs at the top of your lungs.

The Mom Car Selfie is evidence your cup has been filled, so you can go home and pour everything into your favorite little human.

If you’re feeling it, leave your favorite Mom Car Selfie in the comments so we can tell you how beautiful you are and what an amazing job you’re doing!

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Katherine Mansfield is a full-time mom and a when-she-can-sneak-a-few-minutes-of-writing-in writer who runs on the sheer joy of parenthood and obscene amounts of coffee. first drafts is a reader-supported publication. If you like what you read, consider sharing, making a one-time contribution to the writer so her husband will see how lucrative online writing is (ha, ha), or becoming a free or paid subscriber. No matter your level of support, your support fills this writer’s cup. :)

1. Rachel is literally one of the most talented stylists, colorists (is that a term?!) and most beautiful human beings, inside and out. I am so grateful I booked an appointment with her a few years ago; she’s done my hair ever since, including my wedding day updo and my just-before-baby’s-birth touchup. I am so thankful for her restoring my hair to a healthy shine while also talking books and TV and babies and, yes, Taylor Swift, with me. <333

2. There’s nothing wrong with Aldi’s pre-ground French vanilla coffee. It’s actually, like, good. And easy to make one-handed, while holding a 20-pound baby in your other hand. But before our little one came along, I did grind beans from Pittsburgh-area roasters, and drink the first cup of the day slowly, while writing, whereas now I just drink as much caffeine as humanly possible in order to keep up with my on-the-go guy. :)

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