North Texas theater critic premium lace front wigs Mark Lowry dons Mother Ginger’s wig for ‘The Nutcracker’

One of the things I most look forward to at Christmastime is the ballet The Nutcracker. Like a good production of full human hair lace wigs A Christmas Carol, “The Nut” is an onstage tradition.

Mark Lowry plays 'Mother Gi

While many might whisper, “oh, that old thing again?” I say, “Bring it.” Which might be a surprising thing to say given how many performances I am quality lace front wigs forced — ahem, paid — to see each holiday season as a dance and theater critic.

Never again, though, will I watch or write about The Nutcracker without remembering the one thing that changed custom lace wigs my perspective forever: fake eyelashes.That’s because 2015 is the year that I, Mark Lowry, a longtime theater and dance reviewer became part of the art, lashes and all. At a Dec. 13 performance of Texas Ballet Theater’sThe Nutcracker, I played Mother Ginger on stage at Bass Hall.

You know, the head mistress in the Second Act’s Kingdom of the Sweets who has a flock of children, dressed as bakers, emerge from her voluminous dress? That was me — for one night only, and I have to say it was revelatory. Not my performance (I’ve seen the video — yikes!), but the experience of watching this mammoth production come together from backstage was invaluable.

As was very durable eyelash glue.

Not my first rodeo

Before we go further, let me state that it wasn’t my first time backstage or onstage. It wasn’t even my first time to dress as a female character. I won’t go into my Halloween costume choices in my 20s and early 30s, but let’s just say there was a Kira from Xanadu, complete with roller skates, and a Joan Crawford from Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, complete with wheelchair and dead rat under a cloche.

But it has been a long time.

I fell in love with being onstage as a teenager in several church plays, and in high school where I bonded with the weirdo drama kids. (Because that was me, too.) I followed that passion into college, and I even won a statewide acting award.

But, life happened, I changed my major to communications and set off on my path as a journalist. In my work as an arts writer and critic, I grew to love dance, too — especially the work of the local professional groups, including Texas Ballet Theater. Never did I dream I’d be onstage with them.

I mean, dancers have enviable talent, with poetic body control and grace. I am a bit of a klutz, as the frequent bruises on my shins will attest.

But considering my assignment would be to play a cartoonish old woman, and I wouldn’t have to use my legs or remember steps but rather be rolled out on stage in a big dome-like contraption that serves as the dress for Madame Bonbonaire (which is what the Mother Ginger character is called in the TBT production), I figured I could handle it.

After more than a week of hemming and hawing through visions of sugar plums, I said yes to a persistent editor’s nutty idea.

If nothing else, I thought, I’d get a fun Facebook profile pic of myself looking somewhere between Endora from Bewitched and a Texas diner waitress named Flo, minus the long-ashed cigarette dangling from my lips.

Backstage nerves

The day I checked “make professional ballet debut” off my bucket list began by arriving at Bass Hall in time to watch the Mother Ginger scene at the matinee performance before mine.

I had been pretty nervous about this day since we solidified the assignment; after all, I’m a middle-aged, out-of-shape arts writer who will surely be mocked by the artists I’ve written about over the years. Backstage, the dancers and staff immediately made me feel comfortable, and even gave me Dressing Room No. 1 — “the star dressing room,” someone said — which is a few steps away from the stage door..

Principal dancer Alexander “Sasha” Kotelenets — one of the real stars of the show — assured me it was going to be OK.

It was time to start learning the part.

I perched with TBT associate artistic director Tim O’Keefe on the second-story staircase landing (part of the set for the Stahlbaums’ home) in the stage-left wings. I watched the Arabian, Mirliton and Gopak variations perform, and then studied how outrageously tall dancer Paul Adams climbed a ladder and jumped into the hole of Madame Bonbonaire’s dress. He then got wheeled out onto the stage by two dancers from the Spanish variation.

His long arms were fluid and graceful as the character moved about the stage, urging her children to come out and play, greeting Clara and having a ball.

After the final curtain fell and the audience cleared out, they took me on a test run in the contraption and principal ballet master Anna Donovan took me through the sequence and those fluid, graceful arm movements.

“Just follow the eight-counts. 1, 2, 3, 4 … 5, 6, 7, 8.”

Easy enough? Yeah, right.

I grabbed some lunch in Sundance Square and was mindful not to eat anything that would make my insides rumble — there would be humans under my dress, after all.

Wigging out

I was back to the dressing room at 5:30 to begin the make-up transformation, led by make-up artist Doug White and wig mistress Ann McGuire. They had already consulted with me, and I had begun the work by shaving off my goatee and mustache days before.

The costume crew, led by wardrobe manager Masako Parshall, went over the layers of costume I would wear — which was, admittedly, one of the aspects of this whole endeavor that I worried about the most. I probably should have worn Spanx, but I failed to raid a female friend’s closet in time.

The costume began with a body suit with large breasts, which was attached to what is basically a Speedo to hold it on, like a lumpy girdle. Over that was a billowy blouse and sheer, gold scarf, with long white gloves. To finish the look: a rhinestone necklace and clip-on earrings.

Because we were recording video for my story, I had a GoPro camera strapped over the body suit, around my torso, positioned like a hidden camera for Girls Gone Wild.

I can’t give White enough credit for making me as beautifully garish as I expected, a look that didn’t fully come together until those eyelashes were glued in place.

This Bonbonaire would be a little different from Adams and those young, pretty ballet dancers who take turns in the role. Up-snaps to McGuire for tacking and bobby-pinning my big red wig within an inch of its life, and strapping it around my head because Bonbonaire does whirl around and tilt at one point. And no one wants to have their wig fall off onstage.

The sights and sounds backstage were dizzying and impressive — stage managers getting everyone in places, dancers practicing turns and stretching out (I put my leg up on a yellow rail and attempted to stretch with them), the women dredging their toe shoes in a box of rosin.

Show time

When it came time for the performance, I climbed the 8-foot ladder and jumped in the dress. I muttered reminders to myself of everything I was supposed to do, when director of production George Cripps approached me and whispered, “remember this is the ballet; we don’t talk.” Note taken.

I remembered the adrenaline rush I always got before going onstage, and the knowledge that I must do my best for an audience that had paid to be entertained and heart-warmed.

Time to roll out Bonbonaire. And awaaaaaay we go!

Read more here: http://www.star-telegram.com/entertainment/performing-arts/article50493080.html#storylink=cpy

Cancer Survivorship: What buy lace wigs About the Chemo Wig?

When will it be “safe” to get rid of my chemo wig?! I am still here. It is good to be here. Life is good. My breast cheap human lace front wigs cancer was just over five years ago and my melanoma was just over a year ago. I love to read and hear about cancer survivors who are even further out from their initial diagnoses than I am. How long does it really take to create the so-called new normal? I just like looking back and saying “Hey, I am still here!”

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My two children are out of the house. I am happy for them, but some days I feel a little sad too. My husband is wholesale lace wigs changing jobs and we have a the plan to sell our home for a smaller one in town as we get settled in an “up north” weekend cabin we just purchased. But what about the wig?

We are now pretty officially empty nesters. Cancer took some things away and now life changes are creating losses too. I am trying to acknowledge the losses and to celebrate and look forward to some of the upcoming changes.

I don’t feel like I have really processed all of this .. or maybe I am just processing this now, as we go cheap lace front wigs on sale through it. Being an empty nester changes how we eat, how we spend our time, our marriage, what our plans are — everything. Laundry can now be only once per week! Food in the house can be healthy (except when we don’t want it to be).

Some of the other little ways our life is changing: Fewer groceries and emptier rooms, closets and cupboards. It would also be good to unplug ourselves from the television more in the evenings and find other shared hobbies. But what about the wig?

Are we slow in making these changes? My children have been “out” now for about three months. I do wonder what our life will look like in a year. Have we changed too much, too quickly? If so, does that make us reactive instead of proactive? I don’t know.

Sometimes I wonder what my life now, at age 52, would have looked like if I hadn’t gotten breast cancer when I was 46 and a melanoma when I was 51. I wouldn’t have the “cancer box” with the chemo wig safely stored in it.

What is part of normal aging and empty-nesting and what is different because of my cancers? Would I be back at work now full-time if cancer hadn’t happened twice? Many questions about stuff like that are things cancer survivors never truly know.

How much of my memory loss is related to chemotherapy? How much of my fatigue and physical decline is due to cancer and treatment? How much of the changes in my perspective are due to “normal” maturity versus my cancer survivorship experiences? Is it “safe” to toss the wig? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

Do these questions even matter? Maybe not. Yet as humans, I think we like to know the “why.” Sometimes I gain perspective when I talk to people in my age bracket or to fellow cancer survivors. These conversations do help along with the understanding that we can really never totally walk in each other’s shoes. We were individuals before cancer and we are individuals after cancer. We each make our life decisions based on our own values and resources and sometimes it is helpful to hear how others have muddled through all this.

Empty nesting and cancer survivorship. Time seems to fly faster and faster even though I try to slow down and live in the moments. Do you experience that too? Living in the moment and practicing gratitude seems to be the most rational approach. Maybe I just need to forget about the wig. Trying to look too far down the road can sometimes just be futile and frightening. What do you think?
– See more at: http://www.curetoday.com/community/barbara-tako/2015/12/cancer-survivorship-what-about-the-chemo-wig#sthash.TSdAUMWY.dpuf

Hillary Clinton Answers yaki full lace wigs Donald Trump: Nope, It’s Not a Wig (Video)

“No, really it isn’t. I promise yaki lace front wigs you it isn’t,” Democratic frontrunner says in response to real estate mogul accusing her of wearing a hairpieceHillary Clinton answered Donald Trump’s accusation she wears a wig on Thursday, telling Kelly Ripa and Michael Strahan that her hairdo is the real deal.Clinton told the story of answering a Texas man about her hair.

DAVIE, FL - OCTOBER 02:  Democratic presidential candidate Hillary Clinton laughs as she is introduced during her campaign stop at the Broward College Ð Hugh Adams Central Campus on October 2, 2015 in Davie, Florida.  Hillary Clinton continues to campaign for the nomination of the Democratic Party as their presidential candidate.  (Photo by Joe Raedle/Getty Images)

“He goes, ‘Is that a wig?’” Clinton recounted. She answered him, “No, really it isn’t. I promise you it isn’t.”The discount full lace wigs comment came after Clinton told the morning talk show hosts that she attributed Donald Trump’s campaign success so far to his status as a world-class showman. But the former secretary of state said his act has also proved hurtful to many. “Some of it is a little bit humorous and a lot of it’s hurtful,” she said. “He goes after certain groups of people or he’s gone after women, different women … It kind of crosses the line sometimes so, to my ear, it’s no longer funny, it’s offensive and it’s a bullying rhetoric.”

Trump recently agreed lace wigs human hair with radio host Mark Levin that Clinton must be wearing a wig. “I tell you what, it really was shocking to see it because you’re right, it must be – it was massive. Her hair became massive,” he said.

Golden Globes: Kate Winslet buy full lace wig on why she threw her wig into the ring for ‘Steve Jobs’

Kate Winslet takes technological innovation in stride as Joanna Hoffman, Steve Jobs’ Polish Armenian marketing black human hair wigs matriarch at Apple, in Danny Boyle’s “Steve Jobs.” But in real life, the British actress had wanted to ditch her smartphone Thursday morning, to avoid the onslaught of awards buzz on social media. Because even Oscar-winning actresses get nervous about these sorts of things.

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Where are we catching you this morning?

I’m at home in England right now — I’m just lace wigs for black women sooo excited, it’s just fantastic. I could not be more thrilled. I was up early taking my children to school. It’s 3 p.m. here. I was trying not to think about it and go about my day. I was going to give my phone to my husband — because I was just feeling so tense about the whole thing — and then the announcement came out. It was such a lovely surprise.

Really? Yesterday’s SAG Award nomination wasn’t a tip-off? You’ve gotten such a response from this performance ….

I tried very, very hard not to pay too much attention to the buzz and who the front-runners were. All of that lace front wigs for cheap does make you more nervous. So I’ve really been trying to keep my head down and just talk about the film, stay focused. And this moment just feels fantastic. It’s an unbelievably packed year in this category, some amazing women, and not just five, so many.

Do actors of your caliber still get nervous about award announcements — even after, in your case, having been nominated 10 times — and that’s just the Golden Globes!

Listen honey, I’m human …. Yes, we get nervous. I wonder if that will ever change. I almost feel more nervous now than I did when I was 20 because I didn’t really understand how hard the competition was back in those days. I barely had a mobile phone, let alone an email address and Internet.

It’s true! These are such big things that make us so much more aware — and nervous around awards. You just know about so much more.

You fought for the role of Joanna Hoffman. You donned a black wig and emailed a photo of yourself to producer Scott Rudin. What drew you so to the role?

Sometimes you just have a feeling about something, a hunch. When the film was described to me, the concept — that it was written in three acts and rehearsed like a play, that it wasn’t a huge cast, who the director was — I couldn’t come up with any more boxes to click! It just sounded so irresistible. I knew the role hadn’t been cast. I thought: ‘I’d looove to play the role.’ What a terrifying — but extraordinary — experience. So I threw my hat — my wig — into the ring. I was so very lucky.

Had you heard of Joanna Hoffman before?

No, I hadn’t. Someone described her to me. As soon as I heard ‘Polish Armenian,” I was like, ‘Let’s go!’ It was so different than me and I hadn’t done anything like that before. I knew I’d be pushed and challenged. I was also so excited by the rehearsal period — we had two weeks of rehearsal for each act, and we got to spend so much collaborative time together. And that was so unusual and special.

Will you have any time to celebrate today, or is it back to the kids?

I’m going to pick up my kids, but I’m sure I’ll have a glass of something bubbly today. I just feel so proud to be in this film. When I first saw it, I was overwhelmed by how strong the script and the performances were.

WIG WEARING PROWLER lace front wigs cheap CAUGHT ON VIDEO IN SAN FRANCISCO

“There’s lots remy full lace wigs of people wearing wigs in the Castro. Some of them are fabulous. This one changes from time to time. So there’s a straight blonde wig, and then there’s a curly black wig. But it’s all a disguise to me, I don’t really care why they’re wearing it,” said Andy Murdoch, San Francisco resident.

Murdoch and his neighbors began comparing black human hair wigs notes and exchanging videos from their security systems and they realized the same person who has prowled around several homes.

“In that video you will clearly see that person walking full faced into frame. And it looks like they were unlocking something. And I think that was the night of the break in,” said Murdoch.

The pair is clearly inside the property, but it’s not clear if they stole anything from this residence. This wig wearing lurker seems to be casing homes in the Castro and Ingleside neighborhoods, areas represented by Supervisor Scott Weiner.

“When you have people stealing cars, breaking into cars, breaking into homes, even doing home invasions — that can have negative impacts on safety and quality of life and safety,” said Wiener.

The captain at the Ingleside station, has assigned a special investigator to the case

Murdoch says the last visit he got was early Sunday morning just before 3 a.m.

So what’s the lesson here for your neighbors? Lock your doors. Police say it looks like this person is checking for easy access to a home or car. And of course – call the police if you see someone actively trying to break into a home.

‘Santaland Diaries’ gives lace front wigs for cheap holiday sardonic spin

“The Santaland Diaries” at the University of full human hair lace wigs Tennessee isn’t a long play. So let me be brief. It’s hilarious.

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Actor David Brian Alley is Crumpet the Elf in the one-man show lace front wigs human hair playing through Dec. 20 at UT’s Carousel Theater. Running 70-75 minutes, Friday’s opening night was one laugh after another.

The play’s based on humorist David Sedaris’ experience working human hair full lace wigs as a Christmas elf at the New York Macy’s Santaland Village. It’s Sedaris’ trademark funny and sardonic kind of humor, a sometimes biting and always unvarnished look at today’s Christmas and society.

Alley plays a man so desperate for work he becomes a Macy’s elf but refuses to fall into cheerfulness or merriment. He hides a flask in the Santa display and amuses himself at times by saying “Satan” instead of “Santa.” He’s an elf who, if pressed, could scare a kid into not believing in Santa.

Well-directed by Jeff Stanley, “The Santaland Diaries” is a series of monologues set on a stage that looks like a department store Santa village and was designed by Stephen Brown of “Glitterville” fame. Crumpet discusses other elf workers, quirky Santas, crying children, overbearing mothers, photo-happy parents and obnoxious adults who must sit on Santa’s lap.

It’s tough to decide the funniest bit. It might be Alley’s Cher impression or his singing “Away in a Manger” Billie Holiday style. Maybe it’s when, forced to elf breaking point by an overwrought mother, he tells an angry, crying boy that Santa’s “out of the coal trafficking business” but now steals all the possessions of bad children.

Crumpet’s elf costume designed by Brown gets its own laughs. For most of the play Alley wears green-and-white striped tights, pink velvet “pumpkin pants,” a candy-covered doublet and a towering foam wig that looks like a giant swirl of soft-serve ice cream. That wig alone is worth three minutes of laughter. Add to that Alley’s spot-on comic timing and facial expressions. The opening night audience howled when he delivered a line, stopped and stared at them in disgust.

But parents beware. This may be a Christmas-themed play, but it’s not for children. You wouldn’t want your little darlings, on or off Santa’s lap, hearing some of Crumpet’s language or observations. For all its biting humor the play often rings true, sometimes uncomfortably so. Who hasn’t seen — or been — the parent so determined for a happy holiday photo that she or he forces a crying child onto Santa’s lap?

Near the play’s end, Crumpet has a special, if brief, Christmas moment watching one perfect store Santa interact with children and their families. But this is “The Santaland Diaries,” so that fuzzy feeling lasts as long as a warm Christmas sugar cookie. But the laughs don’t stop. Adult elves — don’t miss this one.

WIG WEARING PROWLER premium full lace wigs CAUGHT ON VIDEO IN SAN FRANCISCO

“There’s lots of people wearing wigs in the Castro. Some of them are fabulous. This one changes from time to time. So there’s a straight blonde wig, and then there’s a curly black wig. But it’s all Celebrity Lace Wig a disguise to me, I don’t really care why they’re wearing it,” said Andy Murdoch, San Francisco resident.

Murdoch and his neighbors began comparing notes and exchanging videos from their security systems and they realized the same person who has prowled around several homes.

“In that video you will clearly see that person walking full faced into frame. And it looks like they were unlocking cheap full lace wigs on sale something. And I think that was the night of the break in,” said Murdoch.

The pair is clearly inside the property, but it’s not clear if they stole anything from this residence. This wig wearing lurker seems to be casing homes in the Castro and Ingleside neighborhoods, areas represented by Supervisor Scott Weiner.

“When you have people stealing cars, breaking into cars, breaking into homes, even doing home invasions — that can have negative impacts on safety and quality of life and safety,” said Wiener.

The captain at the Ingleside station, has assigned a special investigator to the case

Murdoch says the last visit he got was early Sunday morning just before 3 a.m.

So what’s the lesson here for your neighbors? Lock your doors. Police say it looks like this person is checking for easy access to a home or car. And of course – call the police if you see someone actively trying to break into a home.

Writtle girl has her hair cut in stock lace front wigs for cancer wig to support school friend

A TEN-YEAR-OLD girl had her hair cut to stock lace wigs use in a wig for young cancer victims to support her best friend in battling the disease.When Katy Kyriacou was diagnosed with leukaemia last year, Amelia Boasman wanted to help, especially when Katy lost her hair undergoing chemotherapy.

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Amelia’s mother Sue said: “When Katie’s hair full human lace wigs fell out Amelia could see how upset she was and how much more confident she felt wearing a wig. So she decided to grow her hair until it was long enough to cut for a wig.”

On Monday last week, the Writtle Juniors pupils headed to ISIS Unisex hair salon custom made lace wigs in Wellfield, Writtle, owned by Amelia’s auntie Kerry Banks, for the snip.Katy cut off ten inches off Amelia’s hair that will now be donated to The Little Princess Trust, the charity that provided Katy’s wig.With the support of her school, teachers, friends and her Guide group, Amelia also raised £400 to cover the cost of the wig being made and donated the remainder to a children’s cancer charity.

After the haircut Katy presented Amelia with a ‘brilliant buddy’ certificate for being “extremely brave and getting her hair cut into a bob”.Sue continued: “When Katy was in hospital, they spoke through FaceTime so that Katy could catch up on all the gossip from school.”Katy has come to the end of her treatment cycle and is back at school, but has further ‘maintenance treatment’ ahead of her.

Amelia also donates money to charity every year instead of receiving birthday presents.”My birthday is just after Christmas and I am very lucky to get lots of lovely things, so I ask my friends to donate money to charity instead of buying me presents,” she said.Amelia’s father Andrew said: “People say to Amelia she was very brave to cut off her hair, but she says ‘I’m not brave, Katie was brave for fighting her cancer’.”It’s lovely that she can turn it around like that.”

 

The girl with the front lace wigs for black women nine wigs

It is Week 11 of chemo, and Week 2 of the new term in my third year at my university in Amsterdam. Four months ago, when human hair full lace wigs I was diagnosed with rhabdomyosarcoma, a rare form of cancer in my lung, postponing my degree course would have been too much to deal with, so I’ve carried on.

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For obvious reasons, though, I’ve fallen behind, my books left unopened. When I applied to study political science, it lace front wigs human hair wasn’t so much for the politics, or for the sake of being at university; it was for the life I wanted to live later, roaming the planet with a degree. Travelling has always been top of my to-do list. For me the biggest problem with having cancer is not physical. It’s that I can’t think about the life I’m going to be living when I’ve graduated. And that is killing my ambition to be here.

My professor gives me a date to present my first paper. It’s the same week that I’m supposed to be having my next chemo lace front wigs for cheap session. I look around me as he goes over the syllabus. It’s confusing being here, surrounded by so many other 21-year-olds. I can’t fool myself as I can when I’m sitting in a café wearing one of my growing collection of wigs: it’s clear that I’m not like them any more. They are here preparing themselves for tomorrow, while all I can think about is the day at hand.

I tug at the wig I’m wearing today, Blondie (I’ve named all my wigs after the sort of woman they remind me of). She’s the only way I can reappear at university without having to answer too many questions. But wearing Blondie and attempting to pass as the old me makes one thing cruelly clear: the girl who was studying hard for a grand life, dating until she found Mr Right, carelessly getting drunk, doesn’t exist any more. In my new life, putting on a wig and feeling anonymous is liberating. Wearing a wig in class is a painful reminder of who I can no longer be.

When the tutorial is over I pack my books and head home, with no plans to unpack them for a very long time. It hurts but it’s also a relief. I don’t have to do this any more: don’t have to contemplate my career, to become someone important, to learn things for later. Why study for a future that might turn out to be completely different? Better, surely, to focus on the present, which I know is real. It’s time for some reflection. Time to get up close and personal, starting with my own naked scalp.

A morning ritual is something I’ve never known. The secrets of hair and make-up have always been a mystery to me. I can barely manage mascara on a regular basis, let alone nail polish. I preferred to spend my mornings with the newspaper and a coffee rather than grooming myself. But that was then. Now I’ve become one of those women who reaches for powder and bushes rather than going “au naturel”. I start with my eyebrows. I was born with full, bushy brows; but now, thanks to chemo, they are completely gone. With my special brush—which cost me £30!—I carefully colour in where I think my arches used to be. Next up is eyeliner. There are no lashes left to lengthen, but the eyeliner helps create the illusion.

When the painting and colouring is done, I look to my wigs. But for some reason none of them will do today. I want to be someone else. Someone bold, someone unknown. I climb onto my bike, and 10 minutes later park up in front of my new favourite boutique, the theatrical store, stocked with props. I’m enjoying this metamorphosis game. Shopping here is not so different from shopping at H&M. I decide I need a hair style with a long fringe to cover where my eyebrows once were.

In a corner I see a Mia Wallace (the character played by Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction) lookalike. I try it on. The cut is exactly what I need. The black colour is too severe for me, but luckily she also comes in an auburn tan that works wonders on my pale skin. The long strands fall over my shoulders, while the fringe covers part of my eyes. At £37 it’s by far the cheapest wig I’ve bought so far. Who would have thought that Uma would be so affordable? Beside me a dark-skinned woman is trying on wigs to wear to a party. She tucks her Afro under a shiny platinum white bob. The synthetic glow almost hurts my eyes, but the effect is amazing. “Could I try that one as well?” I ask.

Although the colour works differently on my skin, I immediately love it. I look like an outsider, something I’ve been fighting against ever since I got sick. With Platina, as I resolve to call her, I’m not hiding, I’m showing off.  I never thought I’d find wearing a wig fun, but it is.

Nine wigs, nine names, nine times as many friends and admirers. Nine sub-characters, and behind each of them a little piece of Sophie. An insecure Sophie: Stella. A sensual Sophie: Uma/Mia. A headstrong Sophie: Sue. A thoughtful Sophie: Blondie. A fun-loving Sophie: Platina. A romantic Sophie: Daisy. An erotic Sophie: Bebé. A hippy-chic Sophie: Lydia. A girl-next-door Sophie: Pam.  All my wigs make me feel more of a woman and less of a girl. Maybe that’s why I like them so much. Sue gets people’s attention – her red hair makes people think I’m a sassy broad – and she makes me feel more confident. Suddenly the clumsiness that comes with being somewhere between a girl and a woman doesn’t exist.  Today, as Platina, I feel different to yesterday, when I was Blondie.

The girl with the remy full lace wigs nine wigs

It is week 11 of chemo, and week two of the new term in my third year at my university in Amsterdam. Four months ago, when I was diagnosed with rhabdomyosarcoma, a rare form of full human lace wigs cancer in my lung, postponing my degree course would have been too much to deal with, so I’ve carried on.

wigs-main-large_trans++eo_i_u9APj8RuoebjoAHt7rBiwLVv-x2UIIDI2Y-giA

For obvious reasons, though, I’ve fallen behind, my books left unopened. When full human hair lace wigs I applied to study political science, it wasn’t so much for the politics, or for the sake of being at university; it was for the life I wanted to live later, roaming the planet with a degree. Travelling has always been top of my to-do list. For me the biggest problem with having cancer is not physical. It’s that I can’t think about the life I’m going to be living when I’ve graduated. And that is killing my ambition to be here.

My professor gives me a date to present my first paper. It’s the same week that I’m supposed to be having my next chemo session. I look around me as he goes over the syllabus. It’s confusing being here, surrounded by so many other 21-year-olds. I can’t fool myself lace front wigs human hair as I can when I’m sitting in a café wearing one of my growing collection of wigs: it’s clear that I’m not like them any more. They are here preparing themselves for tomorrow, while all I can think about is the day at hand.

I tug at the wig I’m wearing today, Blondie (I’ve named all my wigs after the sort of woman they remind me of). She’s the only way I can reappear at university without having to answer too many questions. But wearing Blondie and attempting to pass as the old me makes one thing cruelly clear: the girl who was studying hard for a grand life, dating until she found Mr Right, carelessly getting drunk, doesn’t exist any more. In my new life, putting on a wig and feeling anonymous is liberating. Wearing a wig in class is a painful reminder of who I can no longer be.

 

When the tutorial is over I pack my books and head home, with no plans to unpack them for a very long time. It hurts but it’s also a relief. I don’t have to do this any more: don’t have to contemplate my career, to become someone important, to learn things for later. Why study for a future that might turn out to be completely different? Better, surely, to focus on the present, which I know is real. It’s time for some reflection. Time to get up close and personal, starting with my own naked scalp.

A morning ritual is something I’ve never known. The secrets of hair and make-up have always been a mystery to me. I can barely manage mascara on a regular basis, let alone nail polish. I preferred to spend my mornings with the newspaper and a coffee rather than grooming myself. But that was then. Now I’ve become one of those women who reaches for powder and bushes rather than going “au naturel”. I start with my eyebrows. I was born with full, bushy brows; but now, thanks to chemo, they are completely gone. With my special brush—which cost me £30!—I carefully colour in where I think my arches used to be. Next up is eyeliner. There are no lashes left to lengthen, but the eyeliner helps create the illusion.

When the painting and colouring is done, I look to my wigs. But for some reason none of them will do today. I want to be someone else. Someone bold, someone unknown. I climb onto my bike, and 10 minutes later park up in front of my new favourite boutique, the theatrical store, stocked with props. I’m enjoying this metamorphosis game. Shopping here is not so different from shopping at H&M. I decide I need a hair style with a long fringe to cover where my eyebrows once were.

In a corner I see a Mia Wallace (the character played by Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction) lookalike. I try it on. The cut is exactly what I need. The black colour is too severe for me, but luckily she also comes in an auburn tan that works wonders on my pale skin. The long strands fall over my shoulders, while the fringe covers part of my eyes. At £37 it’s by far the cheapest wig I’ve bought so far. Who would have thought that Uma would be so affordable? Beside me a dark-skinned woman is trying on wigs to wear to a party. She tucks her Afro under a shiny platinum white bob. The synthetic glow almost hurts my eyes, but the effect is amazing. “Could I try that one as well?” I ask.

Although the colour works differently on my skin, I immediately love it. I look like an outsider, something I’ve been fighting against ever since I got sick. With Platina, as I resolve to call her, I’m not hiding, I’m showing off.  I never thought I’d find wearing a wig fun, but it is.

Nine wigs, nine names, nine times as many friends and admirers. Nine sub-characters, and behind each of them a little piece of Sophie. An insecure Sophie: Stella. A sensual Sophie: Uma/Mia. A headstrong Sophie: Sue. A thoughtful Sophie: Blondie. A fun-loving Sophie: Platina. A romantic Sophie: Daisy. An erotic Sophie: Bebé. A hippy-chic Sophie: Lydia. A girl-next-door Sophie: Pam.  All my wigs make me feel more of a woman and less of a girl. Maybe that’s why I like them so much. Sue gets people’s attention – her red hair makes people think I’m a sassy broad – and she makes me feel more confident. Suddenly the clumsiness that comes with being somewhere between a girl and a woman doesn’t exist.  Today, as Platina, I feel different to yesterday, when I was Blondie.

As Platina nobody can bring me down. I proudly examine my fake but fabulous new look in every window. I pedal off to meet my friends Jan and Rob at the pub. I can spot their grins a mile off. Jan loves crazy and kooky, and Rob loves me. As Platina, I’m a bit of both. I meet up with the boys nearly every day now. Fun has come back into my life but I’m different. Someone who is present in the place she’s at. I’m still discovering new things but I’m no longer in a rush to see everything. I don’t let myself look too far ahead to internships, trips I want to take, books I have to read. I savour every breakfast, every cup of tea, every glass of wine, every thunderstorm and sunset.

My jam-packed agenda has made way for blank pages that are filled with all these moments. And I love it. Rob interrupts my thoughts. “Hey, Sexy, your hairdo is perfect. You look gorgeous. Really.”  A smile spreads from one side of my face to the other.   “You certainly haven’t lost your wild streak, have you?” one of the regulars calls out. Apparently, Rob is not the only one who fancies Platina.

Cheekily, I join in the game and flick my hair. Although I attract more attention as a blonde, the impression that Platina makes is incredible. I wonder what the guy at the bar would say if I paraded in with my bald scalp.  So much has changed that I hardly recognise my old self, with or without a wig now. Too much distance between us.