RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CXI, Issue 32637, 19 June 1971, Page 23

RANDOM REMINDER

THE YOUNG LOTHARIO

Most retired men’s hairdressers will concede, perhaps begrudgingly, that present-day tonsorial art is much more exacting and demanding than in their day; that the short back and sides fashion, favoured by everyone from a schoolboy to a superannuitant, did not unduly tax their professional skill.

And then, as now, attention to a customer who has more face to wash

than most, is commonly regarded by the man holding the clippers, as something of a bonus offering. No necessity for hair styling or titivating and a welcome respite from it On the other hand, some of his patrons who have receding hairlines and others devoid of any, are sometimes prone to question the charge made for his services a calculated business risk.

Baldness is not necessarily confined to those of advanced years. A young man of our acquaintance whose father and brothers possessed locks of luxuriant quality, found that his

lack of hair which he had lost because of a debilitating illness during secondary school days, was causing him considerable mental anguish. He decided that what was good enough for Sinatra and Crosby was good enough for him. He invested in a hair piece which had the effect of transforming him from a

somewhat forlorn looking figure to that of a film matinee idol.

He had not previously discussed with his wife his intended purchase, preferring to walk in from work one evening with it in place assuming that, after appraisal, it would meet with her approval. He did so, but rather wished he hadn’t His wife was busy at the stove and he tip-toed up to her and said “Boo!” Her startled scream was high-pitched and spontaneous.

Turning around, she screamed again at what she thought was a stranger standing in front of her. Her two shy youngsters, retreated to a comer of the dinette. The

man of the house had made an impact. Both the young man and his wife were members of their suburban squash club. It was there where, much to the displeasure of his wife, he made an even greater oqe. Some of the more flirtatious females present eyed him with approval and he ravelled in their admiration. He looked no more than 20 years of age and his wife, by comparison, looked 40. Arriving home, there were very real signs of domestic • discord. His wife, with the intuition of her sex, felt that she would prefer her husband to discard the wig in the interests of harmony and on the premise that mild flirtations sometimes can get out of hand. Together, they debated the matter far into the early hours of the morning. Common assent was reached.

Together they deposited the wig in the garden incinerator and watched $39 disappear in smoke. It was, perhaps a very wise decision.