Dippity Do or Brylcream?
Women’s Hair Salon’s looked completely different in the sixties. There were no chains, so they were all run by individuals. A place where neighborhood ladies met and talked in between sets and perms. Row after row of huge iron hair dryers lined the walls–large, space-helmet hats that descended on their hair and blew it dry slowly and inefficiently. Deafening noise–these machines were often kept in the one room, away from other customers. (there’s a scene in Hard Day’s Night where Ringo walks through a ‘hip’ hair salon.)
But what about in the home? The rich ladies like my aunt went to see Millie (yes, that was her name), but for my mom, she had to make do with home treatments after a week or two. So she had a inflatable plastic hat that fit around your head with elastic. I was fascinated by this as tot–you could push on it and it would re-inflate. And, of course, before she started, she had to use some Dippity-Do. This was bright pink gel that came in a clear plastic tub that resembled coagulated Jello, albeit in a mutated color. Mom would sit watching tube or correcting school papers with this thing on her head humming peacefully.
In those days, hairdressers were considered low-class people unless they owned the shop. Which I guess was understandable, since they probably made pathetic money. The last thing you wanted your daughter to do after graduation was cut hair.
The 80’s saw the rise of chain hairdressers and eventually the death of the monster hair dryers from Venus. My mother’s main hairdresser remained her companion for over 15 years: first in a chain salon, then on her own with two others (a palace revolution–gasp!). She eventually married, had kids, and announced to my mother she was going to be a teacher. So mom mentored her as she juggled classes and work, finally ending happily as they parted–a hairdresser no more, now an elementary teacher.
Men?
Well, in the sixties the first fetid breaths of ads for men’s products entered our collective consciousness. Bryllcream was the big item–“Tired of that Greasy Kids’ Stuff? Try Bryllcream! A little dab’ll do ya!” Bullshit–this stuff could slick your hair back as tight as 1956 Elvis. The ad pitches were really aimed at married post-WWII men, not us kids. Barber shops were for men. Hair dressers were for women.
Daddy was not pleased that I decided in college to let my mom’s hairdresser do my hair (cheaper, quicker). I was never down with the macho ethos of the barber shops–copies of Popular Mechanics, Esquire and Man’s Life (the last most famous for Frank Zappa’s Weasels Ripped My Flesh album).
Hadda play this…..here’s the mono single we heard in the 60’s