Transvestia

would be there shortly. Again, over the phone I could detect no special interest in why a masculine voice was calling.

When I arrived, I walked in carrying my treasure in a plain old brown paper bag. Without wig block. This was done on purpose since I wanted to appear as though I had never done anything like this before. A girl came up to me. I smiled my best smile and said I had just phoned. She smiled too, a normal one, no smirk, and said, "Oh, you talked to Maria", and motioned to another girl who left her customer and came over to where I was standing. There were four or five women being worked on by as many operators. One of these, a man, was apparently the owner. He looked up briefly, but went on with his work. No one, operators nor customers, paid very much attention.

The first girl went back to work and I handed my poke (that's Southern for "bag", I'm a Georgia peach, you know) to Maria. She opened it and said, "Oh, don't you have a block?" I said I would bring one when I re- turned.

thinking I

Ann.

"How does she want it done?" She asked, was having it done for someone else, (if she only knew that I was really having it done for someone else What fun!)

·

"Oh", I said, "it's for me. I'm going to a party tomorrow night in New Orleans.

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"Oh, really", she said. "Well, how do you want it styled?" Again, all this was quite straight. She was not the least concerned with me or even the idea of me, a man, wearing a wig. And still no one else in the shop paid any attention to us. So I told her what I had in mind, "sort of curled under on the sides and back', "do something with it in front", and I sort of made a little motion to indicate that I didn't quite know what but that something should be done with the front part of the wig.

and

"Oh, yes, you want sort of a page boy effect. And you'll want some bangs in front to cover up your own hair.

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