Does He or Doesn't He?

Men who wore toupees were once as few and far between as the strands of their own hair. To the wearer it was all a matter of secrecy and shame, and to onlookers a cause for thunderous hilarity; the next best thing to seeing a man slip on a banana peel was watching the wind lift the wig off his glittering skull. Neither disgraceful nor comic any more, toupees are big business in the U.S. today. They are worn not only by matinee idols whose afternoons are fast fading into dusk, but also by many a man who lost his comb and never noticed, or whose wife was mistaken--once is enough--for his daughter.

Traces of the oldtime embarrassment remain. Many appointments for fittings are made after dark, the exact number of toupee wearers cannot be fixed,* and the acceptable word is now "hairpiece." But vanity has overcome reticence, and sales have risen consistently over the past ten years.

Also in Bed. The most obvious explanation for the boom lies within the structure of the modern hairpiece itself. Where rough edges and crude foundations once made a man's deceit discernible to his snickering friends, the new wigs (made exclusively of imported hair, often from the peasant women of Italy) are fashioned on delicately tinted, skin-colored fabric or fiber-glass base, and are carefully matched in color and texture to the customer's remaining locks. The whole thing is generally affixed to the scalp by a couple of pieces of centrally stationed tape plus a smattering of adhesive cement around the edges. The new hairpieces are so firmly anchored that they can be worn in the shower and even to bed, although neither practice is recommended. "But then I wouldn't sleep in a $300 suit either," noted one salesman.

Hair fashions that eliminate the part (an extra area of detectability) are most popular, the favorites being 1) the crew cut. 2) the "Madison Avenue" or Cary Grant look, 3) the "youthful tousled" or Tony Curtis look, and 4) the pompadour. Coming up fast: the JFK look. Prices range from $75 to $350.

Maury Mandel, co-owner of Jerry Rothschild's barbershop in Beverly Hills, says his hairpiece trade has gone up at least 200% in just the past year. "It used to be men of 50 or 60 who would come in," says Mandel. "Now it is men of 30 or 35. It's part ego and part it's just annoying to be bald." Though show biz types like Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra are still leaders in the wiggy set, "ordinary people are going in for the same routine," says Mandel. In San Antonio, whose wig merchants claim the sale of more hairpieces per capita than anywhere in the U.S., most of the buyers are men in the 20 to 45 age bracket. A local salesman, newly toupeed, reported to his operator that the hairpiece had won him a raise; another customer insisted that his crew-cut hairpiece had made him look young enough to "feel at home again" with his grown sons.

Conversation Piece. Among the nation's three largest male wigmakers are Louis Feder, Taylor Topper, and Squires for Men. All have branches or outlets across the country, and all currently boast an annual volume well in excess of $1,000,000. Says one pleased Squires manager: "It used to be not too many years ago that the woman who dyed her hair was considered 'fast.' Now hair tinting by women is perfectly acceptable, and the same is happening with regard to toupees." The company requires that all branch managers must be balding: "You have to be able to know your customer's apprehensions," says Chicago Branch Manager Irvin B. Kipnis, who does.

Taylor Topper's General Manager Paul Caine likes to quote former Senator from Idaho Glen Taylor, who runs the manufacturing end: "The Senator is always saying that the only thing that will stop hair from falling is the floor. But today a hairpiece is acceptable. It is the most brilliant conversation piece in the world, and anybody who tries to conceal it is crazy. I've personally never known any kind of social rejection when I said I wore one, but I've had some very strange reactions from people who found out when I hadn't told them. People hate to be fooled."

Whatever his age and no matter the degree of his adjustment facilities, the newly wigged man faces the problem of getting past that first full-headed day at home or office. Many new toupee owners plan their vacations around the wig's delivery date, return home to friends who usually know something is different but are often convinced it is a slight weight gain or that brilliant tan. One suburban New Yorker received his new hairpiece in the privacy of the fitting room, put it on as his wife walked in. She burst into laughter and kept right on laughing for about five minutes. Her husband blushed, got more and more embarrassed, was finally ready to hurl the wig at the salesman. "No, no," gasped the wife, "don't take it off--I love it! But, I don't know why, it just affects me this way."

In other words, the first five minutes are the hardest.

* Estimates range from 100,000 to 500,000.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.