The Day I Saw My Future (San Antonio, 1982)
I didn’t even know there was such a thing as show business in the hair industry.
That changed the day Mrs. Conlee said to me,
“You’ve got to go to this trade show. If you learn just one good thing, it’ll be worth it.”
So in 1982, with a whole two months of hairdressing school under my belt, I walked into the San Antonio Convention Center—and straight into a world most people don’t even know exists.
What I saw wasn’t a trade show.
It was fashion week for hair.
Runways filled with models.
Stages with theatrical lighting.
Cameras. TV crews.
Tens of thousands of hairstylists and makeup artists—hungry, focused, almost feral—trying to absorb everything they could so they could take it back behind the chair and recreate it for their clients.
The entire convention center. Every room.
All hair. All vision. All possibility.
I remember thinking:
I didn’t even know there were this many people in a city… let alone all of them being hairstylists.
That alone was a mind-blower.
Then I Saw Him
And then I saw the platform artists.
Hairdressers on stage—not just doing hair, but commanding a room of thousands.
What they did looked effortless. Magical. Almost unreal.
The closest thing I can compare it to is that moment in Edward Scissorhands when Edward just starts cutting—and hair is flying through beams of light, illuminated by cameras and stage spotlights. It was entertainment in itself.
But what emerged on the model wasn’t just a pretty head of hair.
It was a fashion statement.
The artist looked less like a hairstylist and more like an animated character with powers that—if we’re being honest—feel more advanced than AI today.
And then I locked eyes with Bruce Galato of the Bronx, New York, on stage representing Matrix Essentials.
That was it.
I didn’t move.
Other stages existed. Other artists performed.
I didn’t care.
I stood there, mouth open, thinking:
I want to be just like him.
This was it.
This was what I wanted to do with my hairdressing career.
The Part I Didn’t Know Yet
What I didn’t know at the time was that Bruce was already in his 50s.
He explained—while creating art on stage—that he had been behind the chair for over 30 years, and now he was sharing his wisdom.
Which meant I had roughly 29 years and 10 months to catch up.
That didn’t discourage me.
It fueled me.
And as you may already know, I became the Doogie Howser of hairdressing for that company in less than two years.
Hunger, Ignorance, and Skipping Lunch
Mrs. Conley warned me before we arrived:
“Eat lunch first. You won’t want to stand in line.”
She was right.
I skipped lunch entirely—a very hairdresser thing to do.
I also trained myself to hold my bladder all day because I didn’t want to lose the seat I had finally secured when another exhausted stylist got up to leave.
The moment they stood?
I took their seat.
I don’t remember sleeping much.
I do remember packing a sandwich at night for the next day so I could camp out again.
The Ticket That Changed Everything (Again)
At 6 p.m., the show wrapped up.
Behind me, two women were talking:
“Honey, let’s go. We’ve got a long drive.”
“But we have tickets to the Carol… Caroline Smith show in the private theater.”
“I know, but I’m exhausted.”
“We paid almost $200 for those tickets.”
“I hate to waste them. I wonder if someone might want them.”
I turned around instantly.
“I’ll take them,” I said. “What is it about?”
They lit up.
“If we hadn’t already seen her at least once in our lives, we’d stay. She’s the first guest platform artist in the world. Her techniques will change your life forever.”
They handed me the tickets.
I wish I had their names. I’d still send them a thank-you note today.
I ran—lottery-ticket-winner style—to the show, which had already been in progress for about seven minutes.
And yes, to this day, I still use her proprietary techniques embedded in my own.
They were right.
She was a life-changer.
The Moment I Knew
There’s so much more I could tell you about my relationship with the stage, with Matrix, with hair shows over the next few decades.
But here’s the truth:
In 1982, I saw my future.
It had never been done the way I saw it.
And from that day forward, I kept having Ahead of My Future moments—over and over again.
Now, after more than 30 years behind the chair, I’ve arrived at the place most people reach when they retire… or become guest artists.
Only I’ve already done that.
So what’s next?
Ahead of My Future
If you don’t understand what I’m building yet, that’s okay.
It’s never been done before.
I’m creating an entirely new experience-based education system—and right now, it looks confusing, disjointed, unexplained, and not even in demand yet.
That’s how all real things begin.
So how do you promote something you can’t fully explain?
Something no one consciously knows they want?
You don’t.
You invite people to experience it as it’s being born.
The Invitation
I need an audience—not to sell to, but to witness.
To experience the process.
To watch the mistakes.
To see the course corrections.
To feel the creation happening in real time.
If you join my email list, you’ll get results in your life anyway. If you can’t find our fancy link, simply email me at Alan+AHEADofMYFUTURE@belegenza.com
What we get is the structure to develop this—together—and make it available to everyone… in record speed.
That’s Ahead of My Future.
And this time, I’m not waiting 30 years to step into it.
