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If you’ve ever noticed the black bins around Sunny Bunny in Newton, MA  — they’re not just trash cans. They’re part of our commitment to sustainability. We’re proud to partner with Green Circle Salons, which helps us reduce salon waste by up to 95% . Here’s what we collect: Foils + color tubes Excess hair color Hair clippings + lint Gloves, paper towels, tissues, cups (the single-use stuff) Every six weeks, everything is sorted, bagged, and sent to a recycling facility in Illinois. And then? Hair  is turned into biocomposite materials, used for insulation research, and even oil spill cleanup. Excess color  is separated — water is filtered clean, oil becomes fuel.🧴 Metals  are melted down and reused for things like car parts and bicycles. Other waste is processed into reusable energy. As of March 1, 2026, we’ve already diverted nearly 70 pounds of waste  this year — and we’re a small salon. Imagine if every salon did this one thing. Everything counts in small amounts. (Yes, that’s a Depeche Mode nod. 😉) If eco-friendly, sustainable hair care in Newton, MA matters to you — now you know what those black bins are about. Sunny BunnyHair. Community. Responsibility. 💛

You’ve probably seen it before:“Color $80.” It looks like a great deal… until you sit in the chair. Because often that number doesn’t include a haircut, gloss, treatment, or blowdry. Add those in, plus tip, and suddenly the total is very different from what you expected. No one did anything wrong — it’s just how the traditional à la carte model works. But it can leave clients feeling surprised and stylists feeling like they have to explain pricing at checkout every time. We wanted something simpler.So we moved to hourly, all-inclusive pricing. You know the time.You know the cost.No surprise add-ons, no hidden math. The only real confusion we run into is helping clients figure out whether they need a two-hour or three-hour appointment. That’s where we step in. We use consultation forms and direct text communication before appointments so we can guide you and avoid guesswork. Yes, it’s different and can feel uncomfortable at first. But transparency builds trust. It lets everyone relax. And once people experience it, they rarely want to go back to the guessing game. We didn’t create this model to be trendy.We created it to be clear. And we’re not going back.

One of the biggest questions we get at Sunny Bunny: “Wait… you don’t take tips?” We don’t. And it’s not because we don’t appreciate them. It’s because we believe the price of the service should already reflect the full value of the work. In many salons, services are priced lower and tips are expected to make up the difference. That can create inconsistent income for stylists and confusion for clients. You never quite know what the final number will be and stylists end up relying on gratuity to feel properly paid. We decided to build everything in. Our hourly rates are set with the understanding of what services plus typical tips would usually total. So nothing is missing — it’s just transparent. It’s not “more expensive.” It’s just honest pricing. Clients don’t have to do mental math at checkout. Stylists don’t have to depend on tips to make their income sustainable. Everyone knows what to expect walking in and walking out. Change can feel uncomfortable, especially in an industry that’s done things the same way for decades. But sustainable pay, clear pricing, and calmer appointments are worth it. We’re not anti-tip. We’re pro-clarity.

The salon industry has a weird ownership problem. Stylists are often expected to stay forever, not work elsewhere, and when they leave, things can get… awkward. Clients get guarded, phones get withheld, and transitions can feel more like breakups than career moves. It’s outdated and honestly not very professional. At Sunny Bunny, our open-door policy is real. Stylists can work here while also working somewhere else. Maybe they’re leaving downtown. Maybe they want to try a new neighborhood. Maybe they love our model but need time to transition. Life isn’t all-or-nothing, and careers don’t have to be either. And if someone decides to leave? They stay while they transition. They keep their clients. When those clients reach out, we give them the stylist’s contact info and wish them well. No weirdness. No punishment. Just respect. It’s the nature of this business that people grow and move. In fact, it would be a little strange if no one ever did. Stylists aren’t property.Clients aren’t property. Professionalism should go both ways. We’re not afraid of people leaving — we’re more interested in creating a place worth staying.

I found photos of myself at 11, 16, 19, and 21  recently. Looking at them now, I honestly thought: what was wrong with everyone? I was so cute. But my body has always been public property. Family. Peers. Strangers. And every time I lost weight, the world was noticeably nicer. We’re told words don’t hurt —but that’s a lie. I started yo-yo dieting at age 13. Diets and body shaming aren’t about health.They’re a quiet way of controlling women—keeping us smaller, distracted, and in submission. Now I’m at the biggest weight I’ve ever been, managing flare-ups, on a lot of meds, and no longer able to “control” what I eat because my esophagus decided to quit. And honestly? I don’t have a choice but to freakin accept it. Because my job right now is to not end up in the hospital every time I try to eat meat. I’m sharing this because I remember everything anyone has ever said about my appearance. If you do too, you’re not alone. I’m grateful to be part of a slow change—one that doesn’t subscribe to this nonsense or confuse thinness with worth. And to everyone who commented on my body over the years: I’ll be sending you my therapy bills. You’re welcome. 😘 11 year old Meghan...giving her a big hug today.

I’m sitting here on a Sunday morning, waiting for a blizzard to roll in, watching protests unfold across our country after another innocent civilian was killed before our eyes by ICE. What does this have to do with hair? Honestly… nothing. And yet — everything. Owning a small business is political, whether we want it to be or not. When I’m upset, I write. It’s how I process, how I make sense of the world, and how I stay grounded in my values. This week, I ended up in the hospital again. Not by coincidence. My body is reacting to the weight of what’s happening around us. Stress doesn’t just live in our heads — our bodies keep the score, and they speak loudly when something isn’t right. I know fear is often what fuels rage. But if watching a little boy be taken from his family doesn’t enrage you — then Sunny Bunny isn’t your salon. I don’t believe in putting our heads in the sand. I don’t want to be part of the mess — I want to be part of the message. ICE is not allowed through the doors of Sunny Bunny.That is one thing I know to be true. So what can  we do? We can donate to causes that matter to us. We can have the uncomfortable conversations with the people we usually “don’t want to go there” with. We can let our beliefs be known and we can refuse to be complacent. I also made a playlist that you’re more than welcome to follow. Music is a universal language — one I truly believe has the power to connect, soften, and unite us when words fall short. This is who we are and this is the space we hold. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5jMbCpAFKh8yzWCxlTcpHa?si=bQe_wBRbRem0q0xgI-5E6g&pi=aB0NvYn0QmarD

As I sit here getting ready for my first day back behind the chair after my most recent flare-up, my head and my heart feel heavy. We’re living in unpredictable times. People are scared. People feel powerless. We’re witnessing horrific events day after day—and it feels like it’s escalating by the minute. I’ve never been someone who could keep my mouth shut about injustice, and I don’t plan to start now. I will never understand what it means to not  love thy neighbor. I’ve helped people in moments where it could’ve cost me my safety—maybe even my life. Not because I wanted to be a hero, but because it’s instinct. I don’t think about it. I just act. And I won’t stop. Today, I had to email my team about keeping our doors locked—for the safety of my employees and our clients while they’re in the salon. Dramatic? God, I wish it were. But I can’t ignore what’s being shown to me. ICE vans have been delivered to Burlington, MA. My responsibility is to protect the people in my care as best I can. And yet—I still have bills to pay and a business to run. Talk about a paradox. Both things can be true at the same time: our country is shifting toward something that feels deeply hateful, and  I still have to get up every day and make people feel beautiful. I’ll continue to do that—while also acknowledging the pain and frustration this administration has caused. This isn’t politics anymore. This is right versus wrong. Good versus bad. Ten years ago, at a Bernie Sanders rally, someone told me, “It’s your turn to fight.” I’ve never forgotten that. I don’t intend to stop now. I’m a 44-year-old, single, cat-loving woman who bought her own home and built a thriving business. I am, quite literally, a middle finger to the patriarchy—and I love every moment of it.

I recently told my therapist that I can’t push through pain or illness anymore. Her response? “It’s about damn time.” For so many of us, living in fight-or-flight isn’t a phase—it’s a lifetime setting. For me, it feels almost primal, like showing pain or illness is a sign of weakness. Over the summer, one of the ER physician’s told me I was “very stoic” while rating my pain an 8 out of 10. That stoicism? Learned behavior. Neither good nor bad—just learned. We wear masks our entire lives. Fake it till you make it. This past year, I learned that I can’t do that anymore. And strangely, that realization has been both humbling and freeing. I used to pride myself on showing up no matter what. I once did an updo on a bride the morning of my grandmother’s memorial service. That wasn’t resilience—it was performance. And I was very good at it. Now, when my health goes sideways, my body shuts down. At first, that scared me. But after 44 years of pushing through everything, it actually makes sense. Bodies keep the score—even when we pretend not to. If you haven’t read that book…take this as your sign. I recently read that we now consume in a single day the amount of news we were once meant to absorb in a lifetime. Our nervous systems don’t know the difference between witnessing trauma and living it. Our bodies respond to what’s happening in our country and the world as if it’s happening directly to us. Stack that on top of personal stress or illness, and eventually the body says,   I’m done. I’m sharing this as permission—to wave the red flag, to rest, to say no.To give yourself the same grace you’d give a friend without hesitation. New year. Same me. Just listening better now.

When you sign up to become a fur-baby parent, you also—whether you realize it or not—sign up for the hardest part: the goodbye. I had been a self-proclaimed cat lady since the age of 25 and was perfectly content with their oddly endearing ways. But when I bought my house four years ago, something shifted. A quiet knowing told me I was ready for a dog. I had a very specific list. She had to have hair, not fur (so she could come to the salon). She had to be good with people (again—salon life). She had to be okay with cats. I didn’t want a puppy. And I wanted to rescue. I never judge anyone who goes through a breeder. I’ve only ever adopted—that’s my  journey—and as you’ll read, it came with many bumps (and not the kind on her body). I searched daily, trusting that the right dog would appear when it was meant to be. And then, in March of 2022, I saw her . A picture that stopped me in my tracks. Her name was Casey—a southern belle from Georgia.I spoke with her foster mom and the rescue league, and before I knew it, Casey was on a van headed to Connecticut. Casey's Pet Finder image...I died. The minute I saw her, I teared up. I could feel her sweetness immediately. From that moment on, we were attached at the hip. My friend Jim even joked, “Meghan’s never going to date again after finding Casey,” and honestly… he wasn’t wrong. She filled a void in my life that I didn’t even know existed. She was the gentlest, sweetest soul. We were all shocked when her DNA results came back: half Basset Hound, half Miniature Schnauzer. She was my little Bowser. Casey came to me under the guise of being four years old—but she was likely closer to ten and very overweight. Her previous owners hadn’t taken great care of her, and she barely knew how to walk on a leash. But I didn’t give up. It didn’t happen overnight, but we got her down 25 pounds. And don’t let that fool you—this girl was done  after a five-minute walk. Casey with the salon's Tibetan bowl sound machine, lol. Within our first six months together, Casey was diagnosed with kidney disease, likely due to her past care. We managed it with prescription food and medications. This year, we added Cushing’s disease to the list, and unfortunately, she didn’t tolerate the medication well. That was the beginning of the decline. Two weeks ago, I brought her to the emergency vet, where they found metastatic cancer around her lungs. Somehow, she bounced back—and we brought her home, knowing the end was near. Last week, we returned again, and she was treated for an upper respiratory infection. Once more, she rallied. Until yesterday morning. She wouldn’t even take her treats. I looked at her and said, “Okay, baby. It’s time.” This week durning Casey's steam bath treatments for her breathing. I did EVERTHING for this girl. I have nothing but incredible things to say about Angel West. They became our second home throughout December and treated us with so much kindness and compassion. One of the nurses even came into our room just to hug Casey—that’s how special she was. One of my favorite sayings in the animal world is, “Who saved who?”  Because Casey changed my life. She kept me from making bad decisions. She softened my loneliness. And when I was diagnosed with achalasia this year, she never left my side. I truly believe she held on until she knew I was going to be okay. I used to whisper to her when I was sick, Please don’t leave me yet.  Even our repeated emergency vet visits felt like her way of preparing me. She wasn’t just my dog—she was family to my sister, my friends, my clients, and my loved ones. She was the only  animal invited to Thanksgiving. She was that good. Now, as I sit by the fireplace next to a confused Milo, all I can say is that my heart feels shattered. This pain is indescribable, and I know it will take time to heal. I miss the click-clack of her paws on the floor. I miss her snoring more than I can put into words. She was, and will always be, my baby. 🤍

They’re supposed to be the most magical weeks of the year—yet they’re layered with stress, loss, expectations, performative pressure, and the kind of childhood memories that still hit you in the throat decades later. Believe me… I get it.My mom once threw our Christmas tree down the basement stairs, and I did  receive an actual letter from Santa warning that if I didn’t “tighten it up,” he was taking my presents back. Iconic.So no—my holiday memories weren’t perfect. But I also remember the magic: the joy, the excitement, the TV specials, the parties, the whole month of dreamy build-up. That electric moment of wondering what waited downstairs…and then the slow, painful death of waiting for my dad to make his coffee before we could start unwrapping. If I’m being honest, I think the pandemic changed how we move through the holiday season. I see it every day behind the chair.Clients go to fewer parties. They host less. They feel “off.”There’s this quiet pressure to feel light and bright , but with the world being heavy, the economy being scary, and life continuing to life… it’s hard to fake joy you don’t feel. This year, I actually felt inspired to host a Christmas party for the first time in forever—because I can feel the collective sadness, the loneliness, the exhaustion. And if I’m feeling it, and my clients are feeling it, I know I’m not alone. So here’s your permission slip:Feel exactly how you’re feeling. No holiday perfection required. And maybe—just maybe—we can all step out of our shells a bit more this season. Because I truly believe community helps us heal. Being together matters. Small moments of connection matter. Wishing you softness, warmth, and whatever version of the holidays feels true to you. Xo,Meghan

How modern retail fits perfectly with lived-in color, low-maintenance hair, and the stylist-first movement. Affiliate links are one of the very few  good things that came out of the pandemic — and honestly, they’ve been a complete game-changer for hairstylists, salon owners, and anyone focused on offering an elevated client experience without the old-school sales pressure. Before affiliate links existed, retail looked like this:You’d buy six of every product, hope you sold all six, reorder, and repeat. Meanwhile, the majority of hair-care companies were mass-producing new formulas every other month, meaning you were constantly  purchasing more inventory just to keep up. As a business owner, that cycle was exhausting… and expensive. Then the pandemic hit.And suddenly, every bottle on the shelf turned into expensive décor. When affiliate links arrived, it just made sense. I could recommend high-quality hair products I actually  believe in without carrying a stockroom’s worth of inventory. Clients still get the right products, stylists get commission, and nothing collects dust. Now, not every company kept their affiliate programs once the world went back to “normal.” But the brands that did?They showed who truly supports hairstylists and understands how the modern salon runs. Affiliate links allow a stylist to focus on the job they’re meant to do: creating beautiful color, blending grays, crafting lived-in highlights, and giving clients the hair of their dreams — not  stressing about selling retail to hit a quota. We’re artists, not salespeople. This is why at Sunny Bunny, we choose brands with affiliate links:It keeps the experience authentic, sustainable, and stress-free for both the stylist and the client.

Most salons run on the same old playbook: retail shelves, front desks, receptionists, assistants, tier systems (junior → master, level 1 → level 100), tipping, and à la carte pricing.You know what all that creates? A whole lotta drama and inconsistency. When you give the power back to the stylist—yes, it comes with more responsibility—but it also comes with so much freedom. At Sunny Bunny, every stylist takes full ownership of their craft and their clients. They communicate directly through their work number and email, book and check out their own guests, and manage their own schedules. There’s no “running it by the owner,” because we believe in hiring responsible adults who thrive on autonomy. Traditional salon hierarchies—front desks, assistants, and level systems—tend to breed competition and resentment (a.k.a. drama-rama). At Sunny Bunny, we’re all equals. We station-share, we clean, we fold towels, and we look out for one another. It’s a space rooted in collaboration, not comparison. And for our clients? Transparency is everything. Our hourly, gratuity-free pricing means you know exactly  what you’re paying—no surprise add-ons, no awkward tip moments. For stylists, that translates into a consistent paycheck. For clients, it means peace of mind. So, why isn’t this the industry norm? Because change is uncomfortable. It asks us to rethink what’s always been done. But here’s the truth: if you don’t evolve with the times, you’ll get left behind. Sunny Bunny isn’t here to play by the old rules—we’re here to create better ones. ✨