Wigs are like trousers at Zara

Let me tell you the wig choosing process is a whole new experience. It can also be a lot of fun. Like everything, it's all about how you approach the task.

I will not lie and say it was always fun, but it got increasingly fun, the more I got comfortable with my condition of alopecia.  The first thing is to go to a place you feel comfortable with. How I found "my" place is another story for another time. But once you have found your place, the first step is to call them and tell them roughly what you are looking for. I am never too specific about my wishes, as I believe these people know styles and fashions best.  I tend to give indications of colour and length, but not always.

Where I go, is also a regular hair salon, this means lots of comings and goings, coffee bringing, hairspray spraying and masses of little pieces of tinfoil. This business is relevant as sometimes despite being placed in a discreet corner with viewing protection, some old lady on her passage to the toilet, might drop her jaw at the sight of a female bald head. Clearly those things didn’t happen in her day!  You have to be ok with that, otherwise the next few hours will be torturous.

So once you have gotten comfortable in your seat, the fashion show begins. Wig after wig is placed on your head, mirrors flashed around to give optimal viewing and if you are lucky, the hairdresser serving you will offer an opinion. I always enjoy this part as it's great to get an honest opinion on whether red hair really suits!

My experience is that in about 10 styles, 3-4 wigs are good. Once the choice has been reduced, the real fitting begins. Wigs are a bit like trousers at Zara. They are all made with extra length. They actually fit everybody but really fit nobody. The same is with the fringe on wigs. It's always a few centimeters too long, so that it can be cut to the perfect length and fringe type. Makes sense really, but it took me a while to understand it.

Then the wig is set perfectly on the head and then cut to size. And that's all there is to it.

Today however a complexity arose that hadn't been there before.

As the fringe hair was being trimmed, it kept landing in my eyes. This lead, somewhat unusually, to huge eye irritation. My eyes went bloodshot and kept watering. I could not understand what was happening. Then it dawned on me why.

The difference from last time was my lack of eyelashes. Crap. Those little hairs on the eye lids are so damn handy. They keep all sorts out of unwanted things out of the eyes, including many tiny little freshly cut hairs.

That said, this did not fluster my lovely hairdresser. He did not make a fuss and he put the wig on the head mannequin that was used to model the wigs and he began trimming away. I have to say; even for me this occurrence looked a little odd. There, shoved between a gentleman's thighs, was my future hair, on a styrofoam head. It was balanced perfectly between his knees, so that he could happily hack away at the length, clearly completely oblivious to how weird this looked to anyone around him.

I could barely suppress a chuckle as this was an inner moment of hilarity for me. I am not sure anyone else noticed and if they did, they certainly did not find this mildly odd.

Strange how it is possible to find hilarity in odd and unusual situations, yet no one else sees it this way. It shows that personal experience has everything to do with how we see the world. Our own experiences really do shape what we see and how we see it.

As a result of this shop, I bought three new models, ready for the moment I am courageous enough to brave them. It's never easy switching styles, especially when you go from short to long, but it is fun!

So, today let me ask, when did you last have an inner and very personal moment of hilarity?