Apparently there have been several instances of the formation of clubs to serve as fraternal organizations for bald men.
The New York Times
has this 1896 report.
Then comes this account in 1920, also from The New York Times
Then comes this report from 1954.
But sometime after that, the original group must have gone under, because in 1972, John T. Capps, III founded the Bald Headed Men of America. They were profiled in a PBS documentary from 1989, as partially shown below.
Apparently, they are still going strong.
It was all the rage in 1962.
Advertised in the Illustrated Police News
- 4 April 1885
Advertised in the 1870s. I think it's also making his eyelashes grow.
via The Quack Doctor
The things people do for fashion.
The shop [Cinandre on 11 East 57th Street] has imported a young man named Yvan from the Carita salon in Paris to do what he calls a "balayage au cotton." Starting at the nape Yvan lifted out fine strands and applied a lightening paste with a thin brush. Instead of the usual foil wrapping, he tucked pieces of cotton wadding to support the strands in process and keep them from the rest of the hair.
When he was three-quarters through, he had used 1000 feet of cotton stripping and Miss Weston looked as though she were wearing an enormous white wig. [NY Times - Apr 1, 1974]
Via The Lively Morgue
From Weeki Wachee, Florida
, which describes itself as "the only city of live mermaids."
How did an unweaned rugrat manage to grow out three or four feet of bright red hair? Was she born with that mop? If so, Mom must have had one heck of a birthing experience.
Is it a wig? if so, please explain in 1000 words or less.
Original ad here.
A dominant theme in modern art is to transform everyday, seemingly mundane objects into art. I guess we can blame Warhol for this trend. In the case of Sonya Clark
, her object of inspiration is plastic combs. She makes sculptures out of them. She explains: "Combs imply order in as much as they are tools that organize the fibers we grow. They suggest thorough investigation as in 'to go through something with a fine-toothed comb.' When a comb has broken or missing teeth there is evidence of struggle. The missing teeth provide a new rhythm, the music of a new order." [via junkculture
Last week three black women stood in New York City's Union Square holding signs that read, "You Can Touch My Hair." It was part of an "exhibition" intended to explore people's "tactile fascination" with black women's hair.
But the exhibition quickly proved controversial, because apparently many black women don't think it's a good thing to be encouraging strangers to get their grubby hands all over their heads. A group of protesters formed, holding signs such as "you can't touch my hair but you can kiss my ass" and "touch my hair with your hand & I'll touch your face with my fist." [huffpost