Our first stop was the beauty shop we had visited the evening before. I felt a little foolish, especially when we were waited on by a tall, well- built man who looked at me with a penetrating gaze. Nevertheless he seemed to know what we were about, and even sold me several accessories to care for the wig. The total bill was staggering - but equally obvious was the necessity for such expense, under the circumstances. After leaving the shop, I commented to Beth about the person who had waited on us. And again she gave me an incredulous look. “You mean you don't—well, let that be a lesson in point for you. That magnificent specimen was none other than our old friend Cynthia. Couldn't you tell no, I guess not. There's something to remember, if you ever decide you have to lead both lives: you'll notice how he accents his masculine image, and how he stressed different elements last night. For instance, you were obviously looking at his wide shoulders. He wears a short tight jacket that seems to bulge underneath with muscles. Last night, he wore a ruffled blouse that pulled your attention toward the center actually shrunk his shoulders, and of course, he faked

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some cleavage to accent the point."

I decided then that Cynthia would best be left as a partly-answered enigma. There were more questions I would have liked to ask, but I also felt that I would be better off not knowing the answers.

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we

For the rest of the day, we two worked very hard at spending the rest of the money I had left. Even after paying several hundred dollars for the wig, there was an incredible amount left, but we managed managed. Beth had tried several times to pump information from me. I suppose that I too, in my own way, was an enigma to her and her friendship with the ambivalent Cynthia led one to speculate about her preoccupation with a certain type of person. Nevertheless, I remained silent; I had no particular desire to reveal any more than was necessary. Since I wasn't sure what the line of demarcation was, I decided to reveal nothing. At this, she grew very angry.

“Listen, doll. I don't mind in the least helping you it's sort of fun. But if you want help, you're going to have to unbend. Now, I want to know three things; you can lie about them if you want, or remain silent, but it's your own neck. In order to get you a decent and proper ward- robe, I have to know where you're going, what you're going to do for a living, and what, if any social life you anticipate. If you're going south to pick cotton, you're going to need a completely different wardrobe than if you're to be a waitress in a cocktail lounge in Minneapolis. Do you get me?"

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