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GET WIGGY - MAKING HAIR STATEMENTS WITH POMPADOURS AND MULLETS
Delfin Vigil - Sunday, April 25, 2004, San Francisco Chronicle
Things can get pretty hairy in the wig business. Just ask Peter Yeom, manager of Ebony Beauty Supply on Fillmore Street in San Francisco.
"Oh, man. It can be dangerous. The last guy who had my job quit after somebody tried to stab him. They didn't like the way they looked," says Yeom, pausing to straighten up a row of big wigs. "You know how people can be. People get really mad when they don't look good."
In preparation for the arrival of "Hairspray," the hair-happy Tony award- winning Broadway musical coming to San Francisco's Golden Gate Theatre this week (about 150 wigs are involved in the production, which is based on a John Waters movie and set in mid-'60s Baltimore), the Pink combed through several San Francisco wig and hairpiece shops and discovered a world of hair-raising competition -- and even a brush with death.
After his predecessor was nearly killed at work, Yeom took the wig gig and tussled head on with the complicated universe of hair care.
He had to learn about the debate over the pros and cons of using human hair versus synthetic hair. He was taught how to pick the right braids and extensions for the right person. He familiarized himself with the differences among hundreds of shampoos, conditioners, clips, combs, cosmetics and accessories. Perhaps his biggest challenge was convincing a mostly African American clientele that a young Korean man knew how to get into their heads.
"Sometimes people joke when they first see Asian people running this business," says Yeom, who is of Korean descent but was raised in Ecuador. "But then they're always surprised by how we sometimes know more about black people's hair than they do. We have to. Otherwise we lose business."
While shopping in a nearby aisle for "Janet Jackson-style" extensions and braids, Joann Agnew, an African American woman who lives in the Fillmore neighborhood, explains why she's been coming here for three years.
"Look, I don't care who's behind the counter. All I know is they have good-quality products and they treat me real nice," she says as Myung Kim, the store's owner, comes over to give Agnew a hug and a free product.
Customer service is a crucial part of the wig business, according to Helen Kwon, owner of Helen's Wig Boutique near Hayes Valley, because many customers don't want to be customers in the first place.
"I help a lot of people going through cancer treatments and older people who are losing their hair," says Kwon, who learned the art of styling wigs when she worked at the downtown Woolworth's wig department during the days when our grandmas grazed through the aisles of Emporium Capwell. "I have to make many sad people happy," Kwon says, pointing to a smiling mannequin head. "I must be very patient to make them feel comfortable. And of course, I am the most talented stylist in town, too."
Although Helen's Wig Boutique and Ebony Beauty Supply both target clients who are mostly women, cancer patients or senior citizens, they are apparently losing the business battle for customers who want to look like Pippi Longstocking, Marge Simpson or a member of the Village People.
Hats off, then, to the folks at Costumes on Haight, who appear to have a headlock on the city's party wig supply.
"I've heard of every kind of party in this town," says Chuck Nicklow, who has been running the store's showroom for six months. "Superhero parties, '70s parties, doctor and nurse parties, 'Hairspray' parties, 'Big Lebowski' parties, " says Nicklow, eventually running out of fingers to count with.
Not only will Costumes on Haight help you find just the right Afro, mop top, mullet, dreadlocks or pompadour, it will also set you up with a matching "Magnum P.I." mustache. Wigs start at about $20 and are for sale only. "Renting a wig is like renting a toothbrush," Nicklow explains.
There is a wig-wearing etiquette that appears to be universal to all San Francisco wig shops: Wig tryouts are limited by time and number -- and no cameras!
"They steal my styles," says James, who works at the Wig Factory on Mission Street, one of San Francisco's oldest wig shops.
What kind of person would steal wig styles?
"They all do," says James, a very serious man who prefers not to give his last name, implying the possibility of a net of wig spies operating in the Bay Area. The Wig Factory, like every San Francisco wig shop in the Yellow Pages, promises the largest selection of wigs in the world -- or this case, South of Market. While rival wig shops may disagree, the Wig Factory is clearly head and shoulders above the competition when it comes to displaying antique mannequin heads with neatly styled wigs.
James, who is also from Korea, personally styles an average of 20 wigs a day. Like most of the wig stylists in town, he uses both synthetic- and human- hair wigs that are imported from Asia. They come flat in a pack and not exactly fit for wearing off the rack.
But using several pairs of scissors, razors and much of his own soul, James dresses all of the hundreds of mannequin heads in the store -- many of them antiques from the 1960s. Business has been slow since Halloween, and lately James spends much of the day alone with the mannequin heads -- all of which have names.
You've gotta wonder -- does he ever talk to them?
"Sometimes," James says, smiling for the first time. He gets up from his workstation and walks over to "Caty," who has been on sale for about 40 years. He flicks her in the nose the way a used-car salesman would kick a hubcap and asks her: "How come you're still here?"
For those who are especially concerned about their new head of hair not looking too "wiggy," and are prepared to pay more than the average couple of hundred bucks at most San Francisco wig shops, the destination of choice is Peggy Tom and Associates near Union Square.
Tom opened her customized hair business 13 years ago after a battle with breast cancer. She was frustrated by the poor quality of women's artificial hair products and tired of wearing men's wigs.
"So I took what I loved about women's hair and fixed what I hated about men's hair," Tom says, standing in her private lab. A stack of Playboy magazines on the table helps conjure that classic barbershop ambience for her male clients. Unsure of the difference between transsexuals and transvestites, Tom says, "Whatever, we're trans-friendly."
Each hairpiece in her studio is custom made, and clients spend between $2, 000 and $5,000 for memberships that include a consultation with a "phenomenal stylist," who promises to make every day a good hair day.
"This is not a wig store. I don't pull out Betty No. 132 out of a box," Tom says. "I use wigs to re-create a person's essence."
One of Tom's most loyal clients is a woman from Colorado who came to San Francisco for a wig after half of her scalp was permanently damaged in a bear attack. Tom custom-made a smooth-skinned piece, perfect for the weather in Colorado and for the woman's original style. She was so happy with her natural- looking hair that she showed it off to her doctor, who said, "Well, I only saved your life."
Back at Ebony Beauty Supply on Fillmore Street, Myung Kim finishes helping Kimberly Smith, a Muni bus driver, with a perfect flip style a la Diana Ross in the Supremes.
What does Kim think about "Hairspray" coming to town?
" 'Hairspray'? Of course! We are your one-stop shopping center," she says, pointing in the general direction of a shelf of spray products on the other side of the store. "The hairspray is over here."
article w/pics
GET WIGGY - MAKING HAIR STATEMENTS WITH POMPADOURS AND MULLETS
Delfin Vigil - Sunday, April 25, 2004, San Francisco Chronicle
Things can get pretty hairy in the wig business. Just ask Peter Yeom, manager of Ebony Beauty Supply on Fillmore Street in San Francisco.
"Oh, man. It can be dangerous. The last guy who had my job quit after somebody tried to stab him. They didn't like the way they looked," says Yeom, pausing to straighten up a row of big wigs. "You know how people can be. People get really mad when they don't look good."
In preparation for the arrival of "Hairspray," the hair-happy Tony award- winning Broadway musical coming to San Francisco's Golden Gate Theatre this week (about 150 wigs are involved in the production, which is based on a John Waters movie and set in mid-'60s Baltimore), the Pink combed through several San Francisco wig and hairpiece shops and discovered a world of hair-raising competition -- and even a brush with death.
After his predecessor was nearly killed at work, Yeom took the wig gig and tussled head on with the complicated universe of hair care.
He had to learn about the debate over the pros and cons of using human hair versus synthetic hair. He was taught how to pick the right braids and extensions for the right person. He familiarized himself with the differences among hundreds of shampoos, conditioners, clips, combs, cosmetics and accessories. Perhaps his biggest challenge was convincing a mostly African American clientele that a young Korean man knew how to get into their heads.
"Sometimes people joke when they first see Asian people running this business," says Yeom, who is of Korean descent but was raised in Ecuador. "But then they're always surprised by how we sometimes know more about black people's hair than they do. We have to. Otherwise we lose business."
While shopping in a nearby aisle for "Janet Jackson-style" extensions and braids, Joann Agnew, an African American woman who lives in the Fillmore neighborhood, explains why she's been coming here for three years.
"Look, I don't care who's behind the counter. All I know is they have good-quality products and they treat me real nice," she says as Myung Kim, the store's owner, comes over to give Agnew a hug and a free product.
Customer service is a crucial part of the wig business, according to Helen Kwon, owner of Helen's Wig Boutique near Hayes Valley, because many customers don't want to be customers in the first place.
"I help a lot of people going through cancer treatments and older people who are losing their hair," says Kwon, who learned the art of styling wigs when she worked at the downtown Woolworth's wig department during the days when our grandmas grazed through the aisles of Emporium Capwell. "I have to make many sad people happy," Kwon says, pointing to a smiling mannequin head. "I must be very patient to make them feel comfortable. And of course, I am the most talented stylist in town, too."
Although Helen's Wig Boutique and Ebony Beauty Supply both target clients who are mostly women, cancer patients or senior citizens, they are apparently losing the business battle for customers who want to look like Pippi Longstocking, Marge Simpson or a member of the Village People.
Hats off, then, to the folks at Costumes on Haight, who appear to have a headlock on the city's party wig supply.
"I've heard of every kind of party in this town," says Chuck Nicklow, who has been running the store's showroom for six months. "Superhero parties, '70s parties, doctor and nurse parties, 'Hairspray' parties, 'Big Lebowski' parties, " says Nicklow, eventually running out of fingers to count with.
Not only will Costumes on Haight help you find just the right Afro, mop top, mullet, dreadlocks or pompadour, it will also set you up with a matching "Magnum P.I." mustache. Wigs start at about $20 and are for sale only. "Renting a wig is like renting a toothbrush," Nicklow explains.
There is a wig-wearing etiquette that appears to be universal to all San Francisco wig shops: Wig tryouts are limited by time and number -- and no cameras!
"They steal my styles," says James, who works at the Wig Factory on Mission Street, one of San Francisco's oldest wig shops.
What kind of person would steal wig styles?
"They all do," says James, a very serious man who prefers not to give his last name, implying the possibility of a net of wig spies operating in the Bay Area. The Wig Factory, like every San Francisco wig shop in the Yellow Pages, promises the largest selection of wigs in the world -- or this case, South of Market. While rival wig shops may disagree, the Wig Factory is clearly head and shoulders above the competition when it comes to displaying antique mannequin heads with neatly styled wigs.
James, who is also from Korea, personally styles an average of 20 wigs a day. Like most of the wig stylists in town, he uses both synthetic- and human- hair wigs that are imported from Asia. They come flat in a pack and not exactly fit for wearing off the rack.
But using several pairs of scissors, razors and much of his own soul, James dresses all of the hundreds of mannequin heads in the store -- many of them antiques from the 1960s. Business has been slow since Halloween, and lately James spends much of the day alone with the mannequin heads -- all of which have names.
You've gotta wonder -- does he ever talk to them?
"Sometimes," James says, smiling for the first time. He gets up from his workstation and walks over to "Caty," who has been on sale for about 40 years. He flicks her in the nose the way a used-car salesman would kick a hubcap and asks her: "How come you're still here?"
For those who are especially concerned about their new head of hair not looking too "wiggy," and are prepared to pay more than the average couple of hundred bucks at most San Francisco wig shops, the destination of choice is Peggy Tom and Associates near Union Square.
Tom opened her customized hair business 13 years ago after a battle with breast cancer. She was frustrated by the poor quality of women's artificial hair products and tired of wearing men's wigs.
"So I took what I loved about women's hair and fixed what I hated about men's hair," Tom says, standing in her private lab. A stack of Playboy magazines on the table helps conjure that classic barbershop ambience for her male clients. Unsure of the difference between transsexuals and transvestites, Tom says, "Whatever, we're trans-friendly."
Each hairpiece in her studio is custom made, and clients spend between $2, 000 and $5,000 for memberships that include a consultation with a "phenomenal stylist," who promises to make every day a good hair day.
"This is not a wig store. I don't pull out Betty No. 132 out of a box," Tom says. "I use wigs to re-create a person's essence."
One of Tom's most loyal clients is a woman from Colorado who came to San Francisco for a wig after half of her scalp was permanently damaged in a bear attack. Tom custom-made a smooth-skinned piece, perfect for the weather in Colorado and for the woman's original style. She was so happy with her natural- looking hair that she showed it off to her doctor, who said, "Well, I only saved your life."
Back at Ebony Beauty Supply on Fillmore Street, Myung Kim finishes helping Kimberly Smith, a Muni bus driver, with a perfect flip style a la Diana Ross in the Supremes.
What does Kim think about "Hairspray" coming to town?
" 'Hairspray'? Of course! We are your one-stop shopping center," she says, pointing in the general direction of a shelf of spray products on the other side of the store. "The hairspray is over here."
article w/pics
