Appearances

When I was very young, my tall, curvy mom reminded me of Liz Taylor.  It was the 60s and Mom's  neat clothing was accessorized by large framed sunglasses, brightly colored lipstick, and enormous handbags.  She wore White Shoulders cologne which mingled with a hint of cigarette smoke and hairspray.  The foundation for this glamorous look was her wavy black hair.

Mom had her hair done every week at Blaine's.  The beauty parlor was linear:  a row of hair wash sinks, a line of hair dryer bonnets, and hundreds of chairs reflected in a wall of mirrors.  Mom and Blaine chatted while he washed, combed, and trimmed her hair.  The talking stopped while Mom sat under a hairdryer and read a book as her hair dried.

Mom returned to the chair and the gossip continued as Blaine removed the bobby pins and rows of plastic curlers.  He teased Mom's hair by sections until it radiated around her head like the rays of a black sun.  Blaine carefully smoothed the top layer of hair into waves and sprayed it with hairspray.  Mom's hair was like a quilt: the pretty black waves were the quilt top, the teased hair underneath was the quilt batting, and her scalp was the quilt back.

Before going to bed at night, Mom wrapped toilet paper around her hairline and placed a large plastic bonnet on her head.  In the morning she used the end of a rat tail comb to fluff up the flattened areas, then she combed the top layer into place and sprayed it with hairspray.

Mom's hair is white now and she continues to get it done every week.  At 86 she still looks great.  On a cruise five years ago Mom was playing the slots, wearing a white and blue outfit with a nautical hat (a stylish version of the one Skipper wore on Gilligan's Island).  I overheard a young couple talking about how cute she looked.  Liz Taylor would be jealous.