Pooh bears! Here we are again, all revved up and no place to go. No place, that is, except onward and upward, inward and downward, in our quest for total, complete and beautiful beauty. It’s working, I swear, you are growing more lovely to look at every time you read my column.
Last time I graced you with my magnificent presence, we were discussing the care of your synthetic wigs. I sincerely hope that you’ve mastered that one by now. You’re bright little things, I know you are.
By now, I am quite sure you have realized the importance of hanging on my every word and doing the thing properly. So important, really. A shabby wig is like a big old hairy armpit perched right on top of your head. While this can be good in certain circumstances-say for example, it is the armpit of that hunky stallion of love that you met last Saturday-in most cases, we want the hair to look like the hair, and the armpit to look like the armpit, if you catch my drift.
The basic care of your human hair wig is pretty much the same as it is for synthetic ones. You wash it in the same way, with the mild shampoo, the tepid water, the thorough rinsing, etc. By this time I am sure you know better than to place Ms Wig in the washing machine. Even the gentlest of spin cycles will not give you the desired effect. Trust me. Why, once when I was young and insanely beautiful, I had quite a little catastrophe with this type of thing.
It had been a lazy, crazy, hazy summer afternoon of martini drinking and passionate amori de nakedness at my fabulous penthouse suite. I left Armaund alone for a brief moment to cool his overheated sensibilities. I took advantage of the respite to wash a few unmentionables. As I slithered down the stairs to the laundry facility, I noticed that I had grabbed up one of my wigs with a handful of dainty under-nothings. Somehow-it must have been the martinis doing the thinking-it occurred to me that I could likely just toss my Wiggie into the washing machine.
Let me tell you, poor Ms Wig was hair today and gone tomorrow. I had nothing in my exquisitely manicured hands but a bald skullcap. There were luxurious blonde locks all over my unmentionables and Armaund decided he had to join the French Foreign Legion that same day; what a disaster.
I share all this with you, only to illustrate that even I have had my beauty nightmares. We are only human, after all. If we can’t learn from these little tragedies and move on, what’s the point of life?
Oh dear, I see I have gotten quite sidetracked. What I meant to be saying had much more to do with wig care and less to do with steaming hot and throbbing laundry boo boos.
The main difference between a synthetic wig and one made of human hair is this: you should always clean and dry your human wig on its stand. There you go. Simple, non?
You keep this Ms Wiggler on her stand and you style in the same way you would style your own spectacular locks.
A human hair wig is really so much more human somehow.
Now, I’m afraid all these thoughts of Armaund have made me grow quite excitable. I feel a tad fainty; a bit breathless, actually. I must retire to my boudoir de amori for a brief nap, so to speak.
I leave you darlings, with baited breath and much panting.
Ta-ta for now. Next time we’ll chitter-chatter about make-up; an equally stimulating topic, I’m sure.
These words of beauty and wisdom come to you direct from the faintingly fabulous Kink Klinic, where Mistress Rosamond is trying to get the knots out of Hedy’s red wig.