Saturday 21st July 2012
Changing one’s appearance
WIGS, I suggest, belong to that category of body furniture that includes false eyelashes, contact lenses, dentures, tattoos, and nose studs: items neither necessary nor natural, but aids devised to improve or enhance a pretence presented to others.
In order to gain most benefit from these artificial assistants, however, the user must be prepared to endure at least three important impedimenta: the price, the pain and the palaver.
For reasons which I have not yet grasped, those whose responsibility it is to persuade us that article A is better for us than item I or object O, have convinced themselves that it is not so much the article itself that matters, but more the manner in which it is described.
It is as if the use of epithets – stylish, affordable, ideal, recommended, hand-made, sun-dried or architect-designed – somehow imbues something with qualities that it does not necessarily or intrinsically possess. That many of the self-same articles could also be said to be ‘mundane, costly, inadequate, spurned by millions, ill-fitting, over-ripe or builder-bungled’, seems to be irrelevant.
Astonishingly, anyone can attribute any characteristics they wish to almost anything, as if there is no distinction between honesty and dishonesty, fact and fiction, truth and lies. Appallingly, very large sums are spent on informing the serfs how inexpensive many items are, although, of course, these items would cost even less were it not necessary for the manufacturers to recover the costs of advertising the claims they make about the items they make, thus adding a further amount to the price of the items. Amazingly, nothing is done about it.
Both the wigs Louise presented to me on her return from the shops were uncomfortable.
According to her, the shorter, black one was more anonymous, the red more striking.
“Best of a bad bunch, I’m afraid.”
She stood behind the chair, vigorously brushing my new hair, while I stared, unenthusiastically, into the mirror.