Prom Hair 1966

Had I gotten too close to a match, my head would be sporting a flaming torch

It was the “Winter Fantasy” dance, and I was 15 years old. I wore the blue formal that I had worn as a bridesmaid in my sister’s wedding.

And then there was my hair. I had very thick hair in those days, shoulder length, and a bit unruly. It was popular to have “beehive” hairdos, or similar styles that were teased, and then smoothed over to look, and feel, like some kind of exotic helmet.

Because my hair was so thick, I spent two hours or more in the salon, waiting for my hair to dry, under the big plastic hood which contained the forceful hair dryer. It was like sticking your head into a hot wind storm. When my hair was finally dry, the beautician went to work on it, pulling out the brush rollers, and brushing it out, then she teased  it, until it had tripled in volume, like a bowl of whipping cream. She fashioned into a nest on top of my head, and used  an entire can of hair spray on it.Had I gotten too close to a match, my head would be sporting a flaming torch. When I left there, I looked like a brown-haired version of Marge Simpson.

Riding in my date’s car to the dance, my whole hairdo would shift back and forth, every time I turned to look at him, because my hair was touching the headliner. When we got to the school gym, where the formal dance was, there was a sea of Marge Simpsons, dancing with their partners.

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