The Wig

One Saturday, dawdling along behind my Mum on mundane errands in the next seaside town to ours I came upon an unexpected vision and opportunity. On my night time erotic sorties to the public loos I had been daring myself to venture out onto the seafront. Although highly unlikely that I would encounter anyone I had formed the opinion that I would need to up the ante on my appearance. I had experimented with wearing silk scarves to hide my boy hairdo, it worked up to a point. Beyond the scarf disguise I was stumped, not really knowing how to go about acquiring a more sophisticated 'look' that would help that reflection evolve more fully into a femme vision. As my Mum and I, laden with groceries, wound our way back to the car, we passed a Sue Ryder charity shop. There in the window, plonked artlessly on a battered white polystyrene head was a beautiful, brunette wig. I almost gasped, it was perfect for me....a card with 'Used - £2' was propped against the base of the head. As my Mum drove us home - my mind was consumed with desire, I must have that wig.

I had to wait two whole days before my next pay packet and engineer the loan of the car. I approached the shop and let out an audible sigh of relief, the wig was still in the window. A cliche bell tinkled as I pushed open the shop door, inside smelled of stale cigarettes, mothballs and lavender. There were several elderly women rifling through the clothes racks and I tried to be nonchalant as I looked around. Behind the counter was a man and a women both in their fifties, she was sorting clothes out of a black bin liner, he was fiddling with the till. On my tour of the shop I was pleasantly surprised and excited there were more than a couple of items that sprung out at me; a leopard print dress with halter neck and flared skirt, a sequined boob tube, a practically new pair of black high heels and a black pleated skirt (M&S). The place was a treasure trove! I waited till the posse of grannies had left the shop and I covertly picked out the items then browsed over the men's wear picking out a heavily starched grandad shirt to cover the other things and approached the counter, the women looked up and smiled. 'We've got collars,studs & cufflinks for that shirt dear......' she rummaged about under the counter and bought out a box of haberdashery for my to look through. In the back of the shop a telephone rang, she excused herself muttering, 'that'll be Doreen, can you help this gent please Mervyn?'

Mervyn smiled at me and asked if I needed any help, I'm sure I must have blushed as I said I had seen the wig in the window. His eyes suddenly lit up, 'Oh, yes well it's fabulous isn't it, is it for......?'

'...ummm....my sister' I spluttered, my face red with embarrassment. He smiled knowingly, 'what an unusual gift for a sister, well done', I smiled foolishly back.

He lifted the shirt, revealing the leopard print dress, 'oh, are all these for your 'sister' too?' he started folding the dress. "Oooookay, lucky girl, let's get that wig from the window shall we, can you give me a hand?'. I followed him dumbly to the window, he leaned over to retrieve the wig and passed it to me, 'Gorgeous isn' it?'. As he stroked and primped the brunette tresses he whispered conspiratorially, 'look sweetie why don't you pop back Tueday evening, Madge isn't in then and I can show you some fab stuff that will really suit you and actually fit', he winked outrageously at me, giggling at my red face. As I was about to protest he planted his hand on his hip in the most camp fashion giving me an, 'Oh come on dahling' look and said that anyway he had seen the way I looked at the high heels, it had been a dead giveaway. "Here come Madge", he hustled me to the door, "save your pennies petal and leave that silly shirt, I'll see you five-ish on tuesday we'll sort something better out for you?"

Things hadn't unfolded as I'd imagined and now, suddenly, my secret world had a population of two. Maybe I had been subconsciously reaching out for the help I so desperately needed. I felt a little excited but also slightly destabilised, I had cherished my secret world, now my little demi monde had been peeped into.