hee. top this:
i’m active in community theater, and from time to time i have to either change my hair color or slap on a wig for a part, depending on the era. the biggest change happened about three years ago when i changed my hair color four times in less than a year.
in the real world, i’m a premature gray/silver. i started turning in my late 20s and now at 50 the color base is officially history. so, at the time all this started, i was colored to pretty close to the original: a black/brown. to match the gal playing my mother in the first show, we both had our hair colored red by a friend of the director’s who’s a hairdresser and who did the colorings as a favor. fine. dandy. the very funny ‘moon over buffalo’ show runs, and ends.
the next week i make an appointment to turn my color back to what it was - and it won’t turn. i never thought to tell the *other * colorist that i’m totally gray underneath. the red has bonded and won’t go away. panic time. after much huddling in a corner so i couldn’t hear her consulting with fellow hairdressers on what to do with me, they told me the consensus was i was going to have to have my hair stripped. oh… goody. you gals know what *that *means. :rolleyes:
so, for three weeks i’m white-blonde to give the hair shaft enough time to calm down so i could be re-colored with the dark and have it take properly. i’m dead pale so i look like an extra from a george romero movie for a while. finally, i get back to my right color. during this time my BIL gets to see me three different times with three different hair colors and rolls his eyes at the third color and says, 'would you make up your mind, already?"
two months later i get a call: 'can you take over the part of the secretary in ‘the seven year itch?’ sure, i say. no prob. i arrive for rehearsal and find out the marilyn monroe part has dark hair and the director wants the rest of the women blonde. fine. whatever. it’s her show. the hair person gives me a blonde wig to wear (you know where this is going, don’t you? ).
it becomes immediately apparant onstage that my hair’s too short to stay under the wig properly even with a gallon of hairspray AND a wig cap on. ‘we can still see your dark hair,’ bitches the AD. okay. whatever. sigh.
i call my colorist. ‘are you sitting down?’ i ask. the next day i arrive, wig in hand, and 60 minutes later, i’m blonde. again. after all that, i officially threw in the towel. today it’s still blonde but WAY darker than it was for the wig, and down to my shoulders rather than supershort.
i’m thinking wigs from now on, no matter what color they are…