I recently fell in with a band of fresh sisters ... I mean, a new band of friends.
We dubbed ourselves the Fab Five when we realized that, combined or solo, we were pretty fabulous and there were five of us. The other members are Lynn Leissler, Carroll Newcomb, Sue Musolf and Nancy Skeen. I’m naming them so there is no way they can deny the following happened and to equally distribute blame in any and all future shenanigans.
Their influence on a child such as me, while at times questionable, has further enlarged my world. Take last Saturday, for example. OK, it was my idea.
Snow fell, but that didn’t stop us from meeting at our rendezvous spot, “A Great Look With Wigs By Beverley.” You may mutter that doesn’t sound very madcap. The sign on the door read, “Closed today for a private party.” That meant us. Beverley Hidde, shop owner, greeted us warmly as we entered to a lavish spread of fruit, veggies, crackers and cheeses, meat and cookies, all for us.
I said, “Wow, Bev, couldn’t you make us feel a little more welcome?” I crunched a sugar snap pea and began to get a load of all the heads of great looking hair staring back at us indifferently.
The idea for Wig-O-Mania hit after wondering what I would look like with white hair. Actually I was curious about becoming a blonde or a redhead, too, and wanted to check out a short style. I reasoned that trying on wigs would be a great way to view colors and styles without committing. But how much more fun could it be if a group of game dames joined me?
When I posed the notion to this flock, I wondered whether they would think I had flipped my, well, you know, but that proved silly, because these are women who embrace a quirky idea quicker than scuttling it.
Carroll sat first for her wig cap, canvas of glamour, while the rest of us made our selections, eager for our turns to look like shallot heads. Carroll’s first wig try, a long, blond number, looked great and took her back to the 1960s.
Lynn tried a long style too, which instantly transformed her into a sassy co-ed.
Nancy appeared stylish and classy in a short, white bob. We discovered that same wig favored each of us. Handy to know in case we form a girls’ rock group. Dibs on the bass.
Sue, who is a human party favor, showed off her personality in a short, curly piece.
I found the wig of my dreams named Brooke. They all had attractive names for our alter egos. I resembled slightly an Old English sheepdog. Make that just English sheepdog. The bangs obscured the top third of my head, but I think the light gray color and long layers made me the crooning image of Emmylou Harris, if I imagined myself correctly. I was just about to commence singing “Wayfaring Stranger” when someone stopped me.
But don’t think for a second that all we did was walk around looking stunning. Where would be the fun in that? We accomplished plenty of goofiness. I became Buster Brown’s doppelganger in a page boy. Lynn tried on my Emmylou wig and looked more like Cousin Itt. At one point, Harpo Marx was seen running around, and Elvira made an appearance.
Beverley Hidde is absolutely one of the best souls around. Her delight in watching and helping us made the time even better. Bev has plans to move her shop and become more of a part-timer, but for anyone wanting a high-quality wig and a huge selection from which to choose, she’s definitely the gal to call. Her number is 541-890-3764. Tell her Emmylou sent you.
— Peggy Dover is a white-haired freelance writer living in Eagle Point. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org.