Fake Hair Scrunchie

For the past few months, our Directv bill has included a coupon for $15 off a $39 purchase at HSN, the Home Shopping Network. Always interested in a bargain, I started watching HSN, which my former coworker Barbara tells me is "the cheap one" (she is a QVC die-hard.)

The first "show" I ever watched on HSN was a Suzanne Sommers pajama cruise, which was actually filmed aboard a cruise ship filled with middle aged women in negligees nearly passing out with excitement from being so close to their idol. Suzanne swayed dangerously, champagne flute in hand, and periodically broke into fits of giggling, as she told viewers about her own brand of fake sugar and boldly colored scarves.

I was instantly hooked.

A few days later, I flipped on HSN again. This time, a creepily close mother-son duo peddled Perlier bath products. I got myself a snack and settled in. Scott marveled that I could watch, with no interest in buying, just for the sheer entertainment value. "Sit down. You have to see this! Don't you think the mother and son are weird?"

"They're related?! Yuck!" Scott agreed with me and thought there was probably some strange reverse-Oedipal force driving the sales of Perlier bath beads to middle aged women who want to enjoy golf or fine dining restaurants with their forty year old sons.

The next time I tuned in, I saw a product so inapt for selling by television that it was just crazy enough to work: Toni Brattin hair extensions.

Readers who know me in person understand that I am obsessed with my hair, specifically its flatness. I am not exaggerating when I say my hair has the texture and thickness of that of my eleven month old baby. My hair is so fine barettes slip right through.

It got worse during and after having both kids, too. "I'm going bald!" I complained to my ob/gyn. He assured me it was just hormonal, and it has improved a little bit, but unfortunately, I am one of the many women whose childbearing years bump precariously close to the perimenopause years (we are women poring over products in the skincare aisle of Target, looking for something to combat both zits and wrinkles.)

Toni Brattin is an energetic gal with a slightly raspy smoker's voice. I would lay money on her having been a cheerleader at some point in her life. When she sells her kits on HSN, she bounces around the stage, clipping little strips of hair discreetly underneath models' own. The end result: fantastic.

Of course, Toni is working onstage at HSN with models. "Rachel here has fine hair," she says. But sure, Rachel also has terrific studio lighting and a professional makeup job. Plus, "fine hair" for a model is not the fine hair of a frazzled new mom shopping for voluminizing hairspray in the grocery store aisle.

Last week, I popped into Long's, and made my usual tour of the hair and makeup section. I froze in the hair accessories aisle at what looked like a shiny long wad of fake ("faux") hair. "I must have this!"

I spun the round kiosk, most of which was sold out. I am not the only one in Temecula playing with fake hair. I chose a medium length number in light brown. The tag said $14.99 but the girl at the register perkily announced, "Ooh, I love these! And they're on sale!" I walked out of Long's with my $6.99 hair, a little bit embarassed but excited to get home and try it out.

I fiddled around for about half an hour in front of a mirror, trying to figure out how to clip it to my head. Finally, I checked the website, which had these terse instructions: "Pull your hair back and gather into ponytail. Attach jawclip to the gathered hair."

I walked downstairs to model my new 'do. "Mommy, your hair looks pretty!" Eva loved it. I found a small jeweled tortoise clip that I use to disguise the bump from where the fake hair attaches, which she particularly liked. Rhinestones are popular with four year olds.

Scott, who has seen me steadfastly through numerous hair and beauty related disasters, thought it looked like I was carrying a toy dog on my head. But I was not to be deterred.

A few days later, I tried my fake hair for the first time in public. The fake hair really only works in one style, a perky Sandra Dee high ponytail. I felt a little taller wearing it, and not just because it added a couple inches to my actual height. I think the hairpiece actually boosted my self-esteem, and measurably (one to two inches, to be exact.)

Now I pop it in on bad hair days or frantic mornings when I'm late for the school run. Last week I popped it on my head and dashed out the door. I tried to sit forward in my seat as I drove, but somehow managed to knock it a teeny bit askew. I arrived at school, where five or six other cars idled in the parking lot, waiting to pick up my daughter's classmates. What to do? I've been desperate enough to breastfeed without an adequate drape sitting in my car outside the school on a very hot day, but oddly enough, this somehow seemed more intimate.

"Tap tap!" Keith, the dad of a little boy in Eva's class, knocked on my car window. "Hi! Walking in?" I had no choice, so I walked in, $6.99 fake hair slightly askew.

"Wow, you look great!" Ms Renuka, Eva's first teacher at the school, beamed at me from across the room. I didn't want her to get too close, or she'd notice the slight color difference between my hair and the fakie. "That look really suits you. It pulls your whole face up." Sandra Dee knew what she was doing with those high ponytails.

I wear my fake hair with more confidence when I think of black friends, who are more open about the whole hair thing. Scott once caught a ride to an office lunch with a female colleague, who had to make a quick pit stop at a shady storefont to pick up $200 worth of human hair (he remarked that the baggie looked awfully small for $200 worth.) I've heard black women make the comment about another woman's crabbiness: "Her weave is on too tight!" And once, when I complimented a black friend on her new hairdo, she said, "Girl, this is a straight up wig!"

I added another piece of fake hair to my collection: a fake hair scrunchie. It's just like a regular scrunchie, but made of a ring of wavy "hair" that creates a casual, somewhat windblown look. The cats quickly claimed it as their own, however, so I am sticking with old faithful.

I just might invest in Toni Brattin's hair. Stephanie, from Oregon, writes on the HSN website: "Years ago I bought the Toni Pony but I thought it always looked fake but it was fun to wear."

Soul sister. I think Stephanie of Oregon just sold me some hair.