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Michael Motorcycle on the News

Evening News wfaa Dallas channel 8  Dallas, TX video link
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Hairline headlines: What does your 'do' say?

11:00 AM CDT on Thursday, March 22, 2007


Courtesy: Christopher Wynn, FD!LUXE


Contact Information
Michael Motorcycle
4503 1/2 TRAVIS
Dallas, Texas 75205
(214) 526-2261

Palm reading has been around for years, but a local hairstylist says your history is on your head.

Michael Motorcycle believes the flow of a person's hair tells a story and reveals their personality. He reads hairlines and says he's broken down the code to a special language.

The art is inspired by ancient Chinese traditions, and it's a trend that's making headlines around the world.

Melanie Brown's hair does not part naturally in the center. While that may not mean much to some, Motorcycle said it means her diet is not balanced.

"You're dead on, I'm telling you," Brown said as she went on to reveal her love of cookies.

Motorcycle said hair that flows toward the nape of the neck indicates someone is an analyzer.

In Brown's case that too was dead on.

"I'm a sales exec at FedEx," she said. "I'm a sales analyst."

Brown's hair also indicated to Motorcycle that she's a passive person.

But it's not a perfect science.

"I'm usually in front of it," she said. "I like to be in charge."

"Maybe you learned to overcome that and assert yourself sometime in your life," Motorcycle said.

Motorcycle said one's hair reveals inherent personality patterns, which is up to the individual to change.

Cymbeline Burgess, 7, has hair on her right side that strongly flows outward.

"It's fun or we ain't doing it," Motorcycle said of Cymbeline's personality.

Her hair also spirals in circles, which he said is a sign of extreme sensitivity to textures, smells and tastes.

In Kimball Tyson's case, her hair grows straight up.

"We've got a very intuitive person here," Motorcycle said.

A patch of new hair on Tyson's head also revealed something.

"This would have been about a month ago, there was a lot of stress in your life," Motorcycle said.

Kimball admitted she had switched jobs and was trying to figure out what she wanted to do with her life.

Through her hair analysis, Kimball found out she wasn't going bald. Instead, Motorcycle said she was going through a crisis that caused her hair to fall out temporarily.

"A lot of people don't know who they are and they're all searching for who they are," he said.

Motorcycle said he believes his practice helps people find out just that; and also thinks once people have a better understanding of themselves, they can enjoy what he called a "new beginning."

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The New York Times Magazine ~Appearances:

Having a Zen Hair Day

Published: July 24, 2005

"The shampoo sink is where you let go of your hatred and your pain,'' says Michael Koler, a salt-and-pepper braid trailing down the back of his Indian tunic. At Michael's Motorcycle, his sunny, cheerfully ramshackle salon in the ritzy Dallas neighborhood of Highland Park, we're about to walk over to that cathartic spot so that Koler and I can take the first step in my feng shui haircut.

                              Diego Uchitel
To harness chi, you must understand fire, earth, metal, wood and water. (Hair: Gavin for Cutler N.Y./Redken. Makeup: Paco Blancas at Jed Root.)

Applying what's now known as ''the art of living in harmony with land and physical structures'' to a shag or a bob would make about as much sense to Fu Hsi, who compiled feng shui's founding principles, as the Swarovski crystal-heart chi balancer on sale at Shop.com. About 5,000 years ago, Fu created the bagua to chart the relationships among the universe's five elements (fire, earth, metal, water, wood) and harness the flow of chi, or life force. Feng shui, which translates as ''wind and water,'' would eventually be used to determine propitious grave sites as well as living spaces that enhance good fortune. Now, of course, it's the money machine powering sales of zillions of instructional books (''The Complete Idiot's Guide to Feng Shui''), tabletop fountains, room spray and, yes, haircuts.

According to Koler, who has tended the tresses of Jerry Hall, her model daughter, Elizabeth Jagger, and delegates to the 1984 Republican National Convention, hair growth is ''a reflection of how the mind's energy moves.'' Koler links different growth patterns to points on the bagua, which he interprets as dominant or passive, open or closed. His method is affably hands-on: after an intensive massage and meditation at the shampoo sink, he leads me to a chair and starts poking around my hairline, discerning from the way it lists to the right above my forehead that I like to procrastinate. (No argument there.) Two cowlicks at the base of my neck say I'm ''a big-time ideas person.'' Once he has read my personality, Koler then starts cutting to rebalance any natural asymmetry and heighten my personal energy flow, obsessively combing my hair flat and then performing a fairly standard snipping and layering technique around the recesses of my sinus cavity, my jawbone and a few inches below my shoulders.

Students of Chinese medicine might recognize Koler's reliance on facial hot spots as siang mien, traditional Chinese face-reading. Students of haircutting will certainly recognize it, too, understanding that bone structure is fundamental to their profession. But Koler adds another layer: I'm not getting a cut but ''a new beginning.'' Twice during my 45-minute appointment, he rings a Tibetan ''mindfulness bell'' to remind us both to breathe. When we're done, I am instructed to look at ''my former self'' in a pile on the floor as my new beginning air-dries into weightless layers.

Billy Yamaguchi -- author of ''Feng Shui Beauty'' and stylist to the Los Angeles Lakers' coach, Phil Jackson -- has a more schematic approach. Clients at his four salons in Southern California must first answer a series of questions, with subjects ranging from life goals to their personality's color. (''Are you brown to orange to yellow? Or all greens, turquoise and blues except dark blue?'') The aim is to discover which of the five elements they relate to best, all of which have corresponding personality types and hairstyles. Balance the elements and the hair will look great -- and reflect the inner self. To David Twicken, author of ''Flying Star Feng Shui Made Easy,'' Yamaguchi's metaphoric extrapolations sound more like Five Elements, an ordering system common to most Taoist thought. No matter, Twicken says; at bottom, ''these are living principles.''

The beauty industry, not exactly known for its dedication to empiricism, has already appropriated aromatherapy and ayurveda. Crystal healing is one of the many treatments offered at Bergdorf Goodman's luxe Susan Ciminelli Spa. And it's no surprise that so many facialists can now discourse on chakras. These treatments have traditionally served well-being, not style, but in an era when we're more encouraged than ever to express our deepest selves through our looks, there no longer seems to be a disconnect between our appearance and who we really are. Yamaguchi says that clients must ''own who they are'' to appreciate their feng shui makeover. The same is true of anyone willing to take a risk on a new style, whether it's informed by the bagua or not. Who would argue that a haircut often symbolizes a new beginning? That this beginning is ushered in with the loud ring of a bell is really window dressing, so to speak. Good stylists have always been part psychic, part shrink and part magician -- and frankly, we could all do with a little less hatred and pain. Whether we let it go at the shampoo sink, or an hour later, in a burst of joy over a good haircut, it's a job well done.

Alexandra Marshall is a New York-based writer who often covers beauty and fashion.

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From London  ~ 
September 19, 2004

Dressing my age

She’s 48 and a mum of four, but miniskirts, bikinis and corsets are still absolutely de rigueur. Plus, says Jerry Hall, she’s just made an amazing discovery: a man who feng-shuis her hair

I hate it when women are obsessive about their age, because it only makes them unhappy. They fret about it, then they get carried away and have weird things such as plastic surgery or Botox that make them look strange. I think that’s sad and rather boring. I’m very happy about my age. I have lines on my forehead, but they’re great because they’re expression lines; anyway, now that I have to wear glasses for reading, I can’t even see them.

I’m 48, but I don’t feel I’ve got to the age where I can’t wear certain clothes any more. To me, fashion is what looks good, not the latest craze or fad. I like clothes that show my figure, and clothes that are classic, but sexy. I found my style quite early on.

I grew up in Texas, watching old Veronica Lake movies, and I wore my mother’s 1940s suits around the house. Aged 12, I was the tallest in the school, which I didn’t like, but I soon learnt that tall is, in fact, an asset: no matter what I put on, it looked good. Nor do I mind being taller than guys I’m with, although sometimes they do. In my heels, I was taller than Mick (Jagger). At first, he didn’t like it, because the newspapers made mean comments. And he isn ’t that short for an Englishman.

I’ve always loved to show off my legs, because they’re my best asset. I’m single, after all, and I love wearing miniskirts. It’s a rock-chick thing. The other guys’ wives all still wear miniskirts, so I don’t see why I should give them up. Plus, guys I’ve gone out with have always told me they like me in minis. I still wear them as short as I did when I was 18, but with thicker tights and still with high heels.

Recently, I went shopping with my daughter Elizabeth, who is 20 and gorgeous. We were in Vivienne Westwood and saw a cute outfit that had a very short skirt. Then Elizabeth tried it on. “Uh-oh,” I thought. It looked much cuter on her. So, I let her wear the very short skirts now.

I have had one depressing moment. After my fourth baby was born, a photographer took a picture of me on the beach with horrible cellulite. I probably had water retention after the birth, but I didn’t look anything like as horrible as that picture. I’m sure they retouched it. It was most upsetting. A year later, they photographed me again with some guy, and all the papers said: “She looks a bit better now.” But it seems to be fashionable at the moment to picture celebrities looking bad.

I lead a busy life, and I like to look good, but to me, shopping is a necessity and not the most exciting thing to do with my time. In fact, I hate the actual business of shopping, especially the loud thumping music that high-street shops play. I also hate trying on things in a tiny, cramped cabin with dreadful light; it’s like going into a torture chamber. I guess that’s why I like the bigger, fancier shops, such as Dickins & Jones, Harrods or Harvey Nichols, because they tend to be more relaxed and spacious. I like to buy a lot at the same time; I shop for an entire season. I’ll buy 40 pairs of stockings in one go, but now I’ve designed my own collection, with Charnos, I don’t need to do that any more.

My daughters love shopping. Elizabeth will roam around and take hours, and Georgia, who is 12, insists we go to Topshop. Once, I bought a red and white striped cardigan from there for myself, but I never got to wear it, because she nicked it. I often shop with Elizabeth — she’s terribly busy modelling, so it’s a way of spending time with her and spoiling her. Our favourite designers are Yves Saint Laurent, Dolce & Gabbana, Prada and Vivienne Westwood. I also love Anthony Price and Thierry Mugler, whose clothes are timeless, sexy and empowering.

Elizabeth thinks the clothes I wear are cool, because she’s really into fashion, but Georgia sometimes tells me that I look too sexy. Recently, I wore a corset top that shows a bit of cleavage, and she said: “Mummy, you’re boobies are hanging out.” Maybe she worries that I’ll find a boyfriend she won’t like.

My bedroom is like a shop for my daughters. They borrow my clothes, so I always have to buy extra. They’re keen on my cashmere sweaters and leather jackets. I say to them: “Please, let me wear this at least once before you nick it.” Then it disappears, so I go into their rooms and find it lying on the floor.

Elizabeth and I often like the same thing, but she’s a young girl who is finding herself, so she wears a wide variety of clothes. At one stage, she loved square- and round-toed shoes; she didn’t really like Manolo Blahniks. I was like: “Oh, my God. You don’t like Manolos?” Now, she has seen the light and she loves Manolos, so everything is okay.

I still wear a bikini, and I hope I’ll be able to wear one till I’m 80. I like good bottom coverage, low-slung at the hips. I get lovely Chinese cheongsams made to order at Shanghai Tang, which all my children love me in. I adore Tod’s and loafers, because you can get around really quickly in them. After all, I’ve got four kids and an active life. But high heels are pretty and make your legs look better, so I wear them on special occasions. I used to get depressed about the size of my feet — they’re size nine — but now I don’t bother. I order shoes straight from Manolo Blahnik, or I buy them from Harrods.

I don’t often wear trouser suits, but at home I wear jeans all the time. I’m not into builder’s bums or G-string-revealing trousers. I think G-strings are disgusting. At the moment, Georgia is wearing very low trousers by Diesel, which I don’t approve of at all. “Your bottom looks as if it’s about to fall out,” I tell her. But I always let my children have their own way with clothes, so they can get the fad thing out of the way. They can wear anything they want at home, but if we’re going to a restaurant, I won’t let them show their midriff. And I think body piercing is disgusting. Thank God, none of my children has done that.

Earlier this year, I had my hair feng-shuied. No, really. I was staying with my sister in Texas, who I’m very close to. She introduced me to a guy called Michael Motorcycle. He reads your hairline, finds out what your hair wants to do and lets it do just that. He gave me a cut that’s easy to maintain and he did the colour, which is gorgeous. I love this man, and now he does all my family’s hair.

I believe that you have to accept life gracefully, as it comes — like the seasons. The main things are to enjoy yourself, look as good as you can and be happy in your skin.

The Charnos Jerry Hall Signature Collection of hosiery is available at major department stores, or at www.tightsplease.co.uk or www.figleaves.co.uk

Click here to view Michael's Listing

Click here to view Michael's Listing