Wigs big in harried pandemic
When Mia Birdsong was around 8 or 9, she would prance around in cowboy boots and a spiky Tina Turner-style wig.
As a tween, she coveted fake manes in a wig store for their sleekness and eminent manageability, compared with the vigorous multitexture hair she had inherited from her Black father and white mother.
“You know the story: Black kid with white mom who doesn’t know how to do her hair,” said Birdsong, an author in Oakland, Calif. “I would have these big bangs I’d do with a curling brush. Basically, the front and sides would be straight. And the back wouldn’t.”
Wigs give the illusion of all-over-thehead uniformity, she thought. “It was all about, like, long flowing hair, too,” she said. “I was super into wigs that gave me white women’s straight hair.”
Those childhood yearnings aside, it wasn’t until July, almost four decades later, that Birdsong, 47, bought her first wig that wasn’t for a special occasion or play.
Actually, she bought six, all with generous and sleek bangs. Among them was a Twiggy-esque short number in orange Creamsicle colors; another with electric blue waves; and three basic black wigs with names like “Mariella” or “Flirt.” They arrived with another delivery: a machete. With her wigs, a giant knife and a stocked pantry, she declared herself ready for intransigent shrubby weeds in “the garden, honoring my Jamaican roots, and the apocalypse,” she said.
Birdsong has been unable to see her hairdresser since March because of the pandemic, and she wanted to look presentable in Zoom meetings. During them, she had been absentmindedly trimming her curly hair, and soon cut beyond the forgiving length of even the shortest ponytail.
She’s one of many women in the United States, particularly Black women, who have changed their hair routines and stocked up on wigs. They fear future salon closures in states where cases are surging, warnings about hair salons as potentially high-risk transmission sites, and sometimes glacially slow delivery and spotty supplies from online retailers.
Holly Stepp, who works for a biomedical company and lives in Raleigh, N.C., found herself in the club of wig novitiates. Stepp, 46, knows how to make a “relaxer” last. She typically gets her chin-length bob chemically straightened every four months, stretching well past the conventional salon wisdom that she should get a “retouch” to smooth new growth every six to eight weeks.
Stepp has worn her hair natural only briefly, during college. She didn’t want to take her chances if the pandemic lingered and she couldn’t get a fresh perm. Unable to see her hairdresser, she went online and, for the first time in her life, shopped for wigs.
At the six-week mark, when many people with relaxed hair would be headed back to the salon, she felt the siren call of Instagram marketing.
“You see all these ads for wigs, the hair companies, and the influencers showing themselves unboxing their wigs and how quickly they can put them on,” she said. “I thought: ‘ You know what? That could be a thing to do.’”
Stepp bought about $600 worth of midpriced wigs — five conservative lacefront bobs that “looked reasonably like my own hair” — and all the accoutrements: tweezers, scissors, glue, canvas stands and tripods to prop them up. She promptly discovered that, despite her ideas of plop-and-go, the wig-installation learning curve is steep. After numerous YouTube tutorials and efforts to get the hairline right, she gave the wigs to her 27year-old niece, who Stepp said “will wear a platinum blond” to work.
Even as many Black women are transitioning to wigs or buying multiples, those wigs aren’t as easily obtained as they were just months ago.
Chantell Carrtherol is a Los Angeles stylist and wigmaker who learned how to make hairpieces on Broadway and also helps clients customize wigs she designed.
Her premium handmade wigs can sell for up to $6,000. Since July, she said, sales at Her’s by Chantell have dropped 75%. Economically uncertain buyers have delayed purchases of luxury wigs, but she finds it challenging to source the hair she needs to fulfill new orders.
Carrtherol, 39, had trouble getting the lace for the cooler, lighter lace-front wigs that are popular. South Korea is a major player in lace manufacturing, and its production was delayed when the coronavirus raged through the country earlier this year. Switzerland sold out of lace for a time.”