Hirsute Hats for the '70s

Wigmakers have long argued that two heads are better than one, but women took some convincing. Human-hair wigs looked like a million, but cost in the hundreds and got dirty, limp and frazzled like the real thing. No sooner was a girl washed, cut and set for the week than it was time to book another appointment--for her wig. Cheaper, synthetic versions did not require such constant upkeep, but then, neither does straw or barbed wire--which they closely resembled. Finally came a new blend of modacrylic fibers--that looked like hair, felt like hair, but could be washed and hung out to dry like a pair of stockings without losing a millimeter of style. Moreover, the lightweight cap of hair was infinitely stretchable, would fit any size head. The stretch wig was on its way to the top.

Fashion designers sensed the approaching boom, and got a head start. By the end of 1968, ready-to-wear stretch wigs by Adolfo and Halston were available for $30, and just this month Vidal Sassoon put his own brand on the counters. In only a year, the leading firm in the field, Abbott Tresses, increased its stretch-wig sales from $200,000 to $10 million and stands every chance of more than doubling the amount by the end of 1970. Says Max Moskowitz, head of sales, "It's like a fairy tale." To assure a happy ending, Mr. Moskowitz warns customers of the few snarls involved: "Don't wear the wig when you are looking at a roast, excessive heat makes it frizz. Don't use a nylon brush, it causes static. Don't comb and brush when wet, the set can come out." Otherwise, he beams, "just wear, and enjoy."

Los Angeles Siege. Across the U.S., women are doing exactly that. Mostly they are career girls, over 25 and under 50, but Los Angeles' Bullock's Westwood reports a siege by curly-headed, bell-bottomed U.C.L.A. coeds looking for the new shaggy, straight styles. The majority of customers stick closely to their own hair color. "Either they're letting their own hair grow long," explains the manager of Joseph Magnin's spare hair department, or "they are between visits to the hairdresser. Also, they may want them for after the pool or the gym, or just to get a different look." Sometimes the look is a little too different: Nina Blanchard, owner of a model agency, picked up a flame-colored number, faced the mirror and shrieked: "Red Skelton in drag!"

Still, at an average of only $25 a head, more and more women seem willing to take the chance. At Boston's Jordan Marsh, Hair Goods Buyer Paul Senecal reports that many customers are repeats. "Because of the low price," he says, "a woman can wear the one that suits her mood. If she wakes up feeling dull, there is her plain brown, but if she wakes up feeling sexy, she can put on the platinum blonde."

In the South, the wigs are selling like grits. Dallas' Titche's Northpark Store does a monthly business of $15,000. Explains the department manager: "It's such a convenience in the heat and humidity." And in the office. Says one Atlanta lawyer: "My secretary used to spend at least 15 minutes out of every hour rearranging her hair. Now, all that fiddling time is saved, and I don't have to smell that awful hair spray."

Fervent Proselytizer. A balding Miami businessman liked his wife's wig so much he went straight out and picked up another--for himself. A fast trip to his barber, who trimmed it to a long-side-burned look and he was off to the office. But not all men are so enthusiastic. A Miami housewife, ready to leave for the hospital to have a baby, was ordered by her husband to leave her blonde stretch wig home. "My husband insisted the baby see the real me," she explains. Geoff Miller, managing editor of Los Angeles Magazine, is somewhat more permissive: "As long as they don't fall off in the middle of an embrace," he says, "they're O.K. I'm so used to artifice now that the only thing I really care about any more is that it's a genuine girl and not a transvestite."

Though stretch wigs will allow women to avoid long hours in the beauty parlor, Manhattan Hairdresser Kenneth Battelle is not in the least intimidated. He is preparing to launch his own line in March (five styles in 20 shades for $50 each) and, like most converts, has become a fervent proselytizer. "Wigs," he says, "are the hats of the '70s."

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