Sylvia's got her hands deep into my damaged, distressed mop. I'm not being humble, I'm being kind. With fingers on fire she massages Japanese honeysuckle, rice protein, and botanical fibers into my parched scalp, while olive butter and lavender work their curative ways. No wonder I'm relaxed. I'm in Tuscany for God's sake. Or, Santa Monica. West of 6th.

Next thing I know, me and my creamy up-do are escorted to our personal Micromist, a mechanism that looks part regal throne, part UFO. Imported from Japan, this ultrasonic steam machine goes where conditioners and other topical band-aids cannot: it permeates deep into the hair follicle and seals the healing in. Sweet. So I'm sitting beneath these hydrating hydraulics surrounded by a symmetry of crisp orchids, my glass of water with floating sliced apples refilled without my even noticing, I pause to look up from my US Magazine Celebrity Style Retrospective only to find Sylvia offering me a cupcake from neighboring Vanilla Bake Shop.

"Red Velvet or Banana Chocolate Chip?"

Toto, we're not at Supercuts anymore.

Welcome to hair therapy, spa style. If beauty is only skin deep, then Byu-ti is positively something far more transcendental.

It's the kind of thing I'd love to make fun of. Truly. This is LA: you have a therapist, why shouldn't your hair? You go to temple, (sometimes), shouldn't your hair have a sanctuary? Perfect fodder, an SNL skit if ever there was one. So, if my hair wasn't shining this crazy Pantene commercial shine right now, or donning a silkiness I didn't know possible amongst my people, I'd be mocking up a storm. Instead, I'm making a follow-up appointment. Like yesterday.

Byu-ti is the collaborative brainchild of Natasha Sunshine and Daniela Bycoffe, sisters sharing a lust for luster and a reverence for tress rehabilitation. The former, head stylist from Louisiana by way of New York, has been earning salon street cred since the tender age of five (she's tamed the manes of Jessica Simpson, Ivanka Trump, Stephanie Seymour, to namedrop a few), whereas Daniela works the publicity end, promoting umbrella mantras of "give goodness" and "purity first." Ladies, welcome to Los Angeles. Make yourselves comfortable.

It works like Jamba Juice. You start with your basic conditioning treatment, $25. I got the Nou-nou pak, my tired and dehydrated locks were crying for olive butter, the key ingredient. Then, Natasha and I collectively decided on my two blenders: shine and smoother. Consultation complete, Sylvia whisked me away, and alas, that's when the differentiation between standard salon and hair therapy spa began to rear its beautiful head, in an innovative, cutting edge take on revealing mine.

Natasha clip-clopped my locks with effortless ease, the confidence of her years finessing each stroke, the passion of her pursuit, pushing the proverbial envelope. She saw past my labor-intensive veneer, and with all the polish only the most professional of the professionals can possess, she has challenged me to do the unthinkable.

Following two decades of habitual hair straightening, in an effort to embrace my hair as nature and God and humidity intended, she is poised and prepared to nurse my hair back to wellness. What does all this mean? Surrender the hairdryer. I am going back to curly. Curly. Curly.

I don't know if it's possible to convey the gravitas, the power behind her suggestion. I don't think, in one mere beauty review, that I can convey to you, dear reader, the pathos that pervades the naturally curly, masquerading as straight. We don't fear the rain, the rain means we don't go outside that day. Sunset cruise? No thank you, we don't speak marine layer. How ‘bout a quick dip in the pool? As if.

Let the acceptance of Natasha's "give me two weeks and I'll get you to love your curls" proposition speak to the level of confidence I have in this woman. Her talent may be exponential, but her fervor, truly the mane attraction. The Florence Nightingale of hair, this Natasha.

So I lick the cream cheese frosting from my fingers and marvel in my renewed strands, and I want to thank them for having me, having had such a lovely time. Instead, I'm bestowed a party favor: personalized hair care "restoratif" created in-house at the salon Byu-ti bar. If LA is a bevy of beauty, this phonetic femme phenom has come home.

As for me, I am a partial curl convert, to which I give Natasha total credit. Some days I embrace the curls, other days the blow dryer beckons. But the option is liberating, and the acceptance of my phenotypic truth, decades in the making. Funny thing about vanity, it doesn't disappear, it merely morphs. And mirror mirror on the wall, I am a curly girl after all.

By: Jolie Loeb

BYU-TI HAIR THERAPY
510 Wilshire Boulevard
Santa Monica, California 90401
310.587.2207
www.byu-ti.com