My Cleota

There is no other profession that can compare to the beauty industry in terms of connection. The deep relationship between a woman and her hairdresser has been well-documented for centuries. 

This is how John Steinbeck put it.

It is my considered opinion that the hairdresser is the most influential person in any community. When the public goes to a hairdresser, something happens to them. They feel safe, they relax. The hairdresser knows what their skin is like under the makeup; they know their age; they don’t have to keep any kind of pretense. People tell a hairdresser things they wouldn’t dare confess to a priest and they are open about matters they try to conceal from a doctor. When people place their secret lives in the hairdresser’s hands, the hairdresser gains an authority few other people attain. I have heard hairdressers quoted with complete conviction on art, literature, politics, economics, child care, and morals. I tell you that a clever, thoughtful, ambitious hairdresser wields a power beyond the comprehension of most people… 

John Steinbeck

Cleota Reed was a woman, an artist, a mother, and an angel—an embodiment of a truly fashionable, artistic, and sophisticated woman. Her style was an art form in itself-a carefully curated mix of vintage couture and avant-garde pieces that showcase a distinctive, individual aesthetic. She moved with a confident grace, a reflection of being “well-bred” in the truest sense—possessing innate elegance and an effortless, natural poise. Her outfits featured bold, vibrant colors and often surprising textures. Always perfectly balanced, she reflected the creative spirit of an artist who understood composition and harmony both in her work and her life.

              Beneath her polished exterior was a sharp, well-read mind. Conversations with her flowed effortlessly from classic literature and philosophy to contemporary art criticism, sprinkled with incisive observations and witty remarks. Her intellectual depth laid the foundation for her extraordinary “great sense of humor”—a dry, intelligent wit that often caught me off guard and always left a lasting impression. 

                 The defining feature of her charm was her “acute” smile. It was a deep, genuine expression that reached her eyes and conveyed an understanding of the moment. A rare, brilliant flash of warmth that invited connection, suggesting layers of life experience and wisdom. She was, in essence, a masterpiece of substance and style, a woman whose presence was both inspiring and completely captivating. 

See, it was all of that and more, but to me, she was a dear friend whom I will miss immensely. To know her was to love her, and I always will. 

Rest in peace, dear friend. You were indeed a rare gem in my book!

Respectfully,