Wig Tales

Suddenly, Monster Mash 2013 is less than three weeks away.  October 27th is approaching faster than I thought.  October 19th -- an afternoon of playing for kids at Safetyville -- is even sooner.  Yikes, that is less than two weeks away.  What originally seemed like lots of time really isn’t.  Time flies when you are not paying attention.

The wig search began in earnest last week.  Earlier resolutions to solve the Halloween hair problem sooner rather than later were not kept.  October was here already, and the toxic mess from last year was all I had.  But it was not going back on my head.

As I passed an ostensibly upscale hair salon -- it has to be upscale because it has a spa -- near the office, some wigs on a shelf caught my eye.  Additionally, a couple of days before, I noticed a stylist working on a wig.  Could this be a fortuitous solution?  Were the wigs there for decoration?  Or to advertise “wigs for sale”?  What would be the harm of asking?

So I walked in, approached the two young women behind the counter, and asked, “Do you sell wigs?”  The answer was direct and immediate, “No.”  

As the follow-up question passed my lips, the looks on their faces suggested that they might be misunderstanding the nature of my inquiries.  Of course, what look would you really expect when a grown man wearing a stylish tie snugged at the neck and sport coat says, “I’m looking for a wig that can be styled into a bouffant”?

Yeah, the looks on their faces told me that they were envisioning a 6’2” middle-aged man sporting a Dusty Springfield beehive wig, falsies, fake eye lashes, and a spaghetti strapped gown.  As they were hipsters managing a salon -- and, don't forget, spa -- catering to enlightened professional women and the young and the chic, they did not cut me off.  Rather, they were going to help, “Are you looking for real or synthetic hair?”

With that, I could feel that this was leading to some suggestion that was beyond my price point.  But before going there, they needed to be disabused on their initial impression.  “Oh, I’m in a rock 'n roll band and need something for Halloween gigs.”  With that, they knew I was not working on a costume for an upcoming LGBT event and, despite my button-downed appearance, was semi-cool enough to play in a band.

“Well, I want something that is relatively inexpensive.”  My other criteria then followed:  capable of styling and restyling, will not fall apart when teased a bit, holds its body, and can be colored to blend with my natural hair.  “You’re not going to find that easily.  Maybe you should just look for a costume wig.” 

No fortuitous solution came of this.  That meant a trip to Evangeline’s Costume Mansion in Old Sacramento was on the horizon.

The saga continues . . . .


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