As a number of you know, I’m lucky in some ways. No, I don’t win contests and I have rotten luck when it comes to raffles (ask me about this some time) but when it comes to friends and family, the goods are definitely canceling out the bads. Which is saying a lot because there have been some pretty craptacular bads over the years.

For instance, I have a very nice friend named Chris. On flickr, he goes by deadslow. You should really check out his stuff (when you’re done reading this, of course) because he takes exceptional photos. The reason I mention him is that Chris decided one day to lend me his extra Yashica Mat 124. Right? I told you. Lucky.

However, luck can only take you so far. Unfortunately for me, the pretty little Yashica Mat had a problem with its shutter, which I discovered only after running some film through it. So I took it to a camera repair shop in downtown Oakland, told Chris how much the repair would cost (a reasonable price for a quality repair), and we decided to go for it. Yes, I’m this responsible with anything I borrow. I take very good care of your things, friends. Just beware they don’t turn into my things…

And then I waited.

And waited.

About three weeks later, the camera was ready to pick up. I anxiously zipped down to Oakland, parked my car, and tripped to the corner near the shop. When I saw the car. Yeah, this one.

It just so happened I had a camera loaded with Agfa Precisa 100 in it that I was planning to have cross-processed. And what better way to shoot a cherry red Malibu Classic? As I was ogling it, the owner of the barber shop you see behind it came out and smiled at me.

“You like that car?” he asked.

“Oh man. Are you kidding?” I replied. “And the film I have in here now, it’s gonna make the car look like candy. Like an Easter egg.” I took another shot. I turned around to say something else to him, but he’d already disappeared back into his shop. So I took a photo of the car reflected in the window, and went to pick up the Yashica Mat.

When I picked up the camera, I straightaway loaded it with some expired 220 (sent to me by the lovely Jen). I wanted to go back and shoot the car with the Yashica Mat. But when I walked back to the corner, it was pulling away. I stood there for a second, watching it go, and decided it was time.

I walked up to the barber shop and opened the door. It was cozy and tiny, with two chairs, the walls covered with snapshots and photos, the shelves crammed and cluttered with products and tools of the trade. It felt comfortable inside, masculine, but not affected. Just a regular shop, with a regular way about it. A few wooden chairs were lined up against the wall with the big windows looking out onto the street; a man sat in one of them, perhaps a customer waiting, perhaps a friend sitting and chatting with the barber. Another man was cleaning, trash bag in hand, moving around the chair farthest from the door, tidying up the sink behind it. There was a customer in the chair closest to the door, a black drape covering him and much of the chair, and the owner was busy working away on his hair with a razor and a comb. They all looked up at me as I stepped inside.

“I was wondering if I could take a shot or two in here,” I said, somewhat shyly, removing the cover from the Yashica Mat. The barber stood a little taller and said it was no problem, started fussing around the place, trying to tidy up a bit and give me some room to shoot. The customer looked at me askance, as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what to do. I told the owner not to worry, I didn’t need much space and wasn’t going to shoot in that direction. And I told the customer I wouldn’t get him in any of the shots; I could see his shoulders relax, and the barest hint of a smile skipped across his face.

Just then a tall, imposing man walked in the door, his sunglasses on. He looked at me and paused for a second. I imagine it was surprising to see me there after all, an unfamiliar face in a familiar place. I doubt many white women meander into this barber shop too often. I grinned at him and said I was just taking a few shots. He smiled back and said, “Knock yourself out.” And then everyone went back to whatever it was they were doing, and ignored me.

As I was leaving, the owner told me he’d love to see the shots. I told him I’d bring a print of any that came out, as well as any of the car I’d shot earlier. He told me I was welcome to take a shot of the front window of his shop. I’d already done so, with the reflection of the red car in it, but I went ahead and took another. I’m glad I did.

Luck is great, but it’s even better when you manufacture the opportunities that bring you more.

xo