Wigs: Too Tall, Too Soft, Too Small . . . .

How about bit of a recap?  The Pups are one week away from the Safetyville Halloween Haunt.  Two weeks away from Monster Mash 2013.  Last year’s wig is beyond styling.  Worst of all, it stinks from the combination of hair glue, hair spray, and paint that did not provide enough holding power to last an afternoon.

No suitable wig was readily available on the Internet.  A visit to the upscale -- and hip -- hair salon (and spa) near the office led primarily to being identified as a suspected cross-dresser.  And to the suggestion to go to Evangeline’s Costume Mansion.

Evangeline’s is an Old Sacramento institution.  Originally, the store occupied the street floor of the Howard House on K Street.  It was a store that offered hard to find, trendy, generally inexpensive kitsch merchandise.  If you needed a joke gift, racy cards, or something different, Evangeline’s was the place.  The store found its niche quickly and has remained true to that.

In the early years of Evangeline’s, Old Sacramento was the center of Sacramento’s nightlife.  Every night, young professionals, lobbyists, and others arrived to participate in the alcohol-fueled, worry-free hedonism that pre-dated STDs, AIDS, and MADD.  That scene eventually changed; after all, the young and cool generally are fickle.

Now, Evangeline’s occupies the entire Howard Building and the Lady Adams Building next door.  The store’s niche business is on the street level.  The basement that once housed a law office and Sacramento’s coolest hair salon provides storage and staging for the retail operation above.  The Costume Mansion occupies the top two floors.  In the halcyon days of Old Sacramento, D.O. Mills was there -- two bars and a restaurant that buzzed with loud conversation and music.

The wig counter is on the third floor.  I described my vision.  Hair standing straight up with an angled or flat top.  “We have a fade but it probably won’t hold its shape.”  The clerk then showed me last year’s model.  “Nope, tried that.  You are right.  It doesn’t hold its shape.”  

After scanning the selection displayed on the back wall, a potential choice was identified.  “How about the mega afro?”  “Do you want to try it on?”  “Sure.”  “That will be 25 cents.”  I paid my quarter and was handed an under-wig cap.  The mega afro was too tall.  

“How about a beehive?”  Too soft.  “How about Frankenstein’s wife?”  Too small.  With that, we had exhausted the possibilities.  “Can the beehive be styled?”  “Not really.  But you can go on Youtube and see how to dye it.”  That would make it black and gray but too soft.

I left the wig counter wigless.  On the second floor, Evangeline’s owner asked if I found what I wanted, and we discussed my vision.  “I don’t know where you can get that around here.  If you had more time, I know somebody in L.A. that could come up with exactly what you want.”  

If you had more time . . . . Oh, well.

The time had come to conjure up another vision, and the saga continues . . . .


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