"Sado-Masochistic Practices in Mid-Twentieth Century American Hair" by Mary Kay Feather

Sado-Masochistic Practices in Mid-Twentieth Century American Hair

In the nineteen-fifties before the school year began, my mother would drape me in plastic and old towels and part my hair into tiny clumps. She wound strands of hair tightly around pink plastic rods and doused them with foul-smelling setting solution.
If a loose rod hit my shoulder, "Damn," she’d say.
If she wound more tightly, I’d say "Ouch,” my eyes watering.
We sat there in the kitchen, eyes fixed on the wind-up timer until it went off and I could be neutralized. Tick. Tick. Tick. I would feel my head begin to burn, proof that the solution was working. As soon as the timer went off, my mother would unfurl a test curl looking for that telltale spring in the hair, the secret of hidden body described in the Toni Home Perm ads. If there was not enough curl, I had to sit longer. What price beauty?
When the right chemical reaction had been achieved, she would dab on the neutralizer, cold drips running down my scalp, and then rush me over to the faucet and rinse my head as she unwound the pink rods which clattered into the sink.
The finished product left a frizzy bend and a dissipating stink, not exactly the lustrous Breck look I longed for in magazine ads, but good enough for six months of bounce.
Ten years later, I ironed my hair to eliminate any wave and duplicate the broom-straight locks of Mary Travers. I draped my long tresses over the ironing board to press out any bend. I never burned myself badly. I loved swinging the yardstick straight blonde curtain on the dance floor while Van Morrison crooned Gloria, strobe lights blazing.
But when I went to work, I pulled my long hair up into a ponytail and attached a three-foot long Dynel “fall” of fake hair into the hub, pinning it securely with long pins. I attached a “rat” of hair made from combings in a net bun atop that and wrapped the long strands around and around to achieve a beehive effect. The Dynel was as fake as could be, but the color closely matched my own hair suggesting the concoction might be natural.
After years of highlights and hair salon expenses, the vanity aimed at my head has expired. I use the swimming pool regularly and I want a wash ‘n wear “do.” My prep time has been cut by two-thirds abandoning dryer, sculpted brush and the “defining whip” styling cream. The pin curls, electric rollers, and Toni Home Perm burn only in my memory.

Mary Kay FeatheR

Mary Kay Feather, a resident Seattle native, has written a yet-to-be-published memoir entitled, Trouble With Fun, and is retired from library reference work. She lives on a Capitol Hill urban farm with her husband, Michael, Leo the Labradoodle, and many books. She has published recent essays in Persimmon Tree and Ruminate.

Headshot: Michael Dedrick

Photo Credit : Lynne Gregory