Cranston Legends - The Perm

The “Permanent Wave,” aka the “Perm.” I’ve been watching “The People Vs. OJ Simpson” which reminded me about my own hairstyle choices back in the day. Poor Marcia Clark was a casualty to this unparalleled hairstyle choice, but weren’t we all?

Who knew that hairstylists going as far back as the 19th century were trying to formulate a concoction to produce long-lasting waves? In 1905 a gent by the name of Karl Nessler perfected the permanent wave by using a mixture of cow urine and water. Whatever works, right?

But the 1970s and 1980s really put the perm on the map and almost every teenage girl had one. It was the “in thing.” I’d look at all the girls in my classes at Western Hills Junior High School with their long, curly, poofy hair and wonder, “should I get one?”

It wasn’t until my friend got her perm that I decided I needed one. I had straight, fine hair with no body or volume. It was time to take the plunge into the luxurious pool of curls. I mean, everyone else was doing it.

My aunt was a hairdresser and her basement was equipped with all the necessities. She would do “heads'' as they used to say. Her friends would come over and she’d set their hair once a month or so while they gabbed and gossiped.

I guess I didn’t make it quite clear on what I ultimately visualized. Unfortunately, I didn’t communicate to my aunt that I wanted “loose” curls (more of a spiral perm) rather than a tight coil, but I didn’t know the vocabulary. I didn’t understand curlers came in all shapes and sizes. I was 13 years old with little to no fashion sense. I still liked Garfield for crying out loud. She wheeled out a cart with her teeny-tiny rollers and probably rolled my hair up into a thousand curlers. If I remember correctly, my hair was so tightly wound I think my eyeballs were stretched up over my forehead.

After the whole process and taking out the rollers, my hair puffed up into what I’ve always described as “Little Orphan Annie Elegance.” She took a pik and fluffed it up to perfection. Then we went to the Five-and-Dime on Rolfe Street where she bought me my very own hair pik and hairspray to tend to my perm.

The problem was, I was horrific at styling my hair. There just wasn’t enough Aqua-Net or hair combs in the world to make it look halfway decent. All the girls at school took hair combs, one to each side of their head with such precision, to lift their hair up to the heavens. You know the saying, the higher the hair, the closer to God. It had to be tight so it wouldn’t fall out during the day. Then you sprayed that masterpiece with a half a can of Aqua-Net - “extra maximum super duper hold.” They may as well have called it liquid concrete. If my memory serves me correctly, I think it was reported by NASA back in ‘88 that the two major holes in the ozone layer were hovering above both Cranston High School West and Cranston High School East. I may have to fact-check that...

My combs never stayed put and I always bought the generic version of Aqua-Net because I never could afford the real deal. Many times I’d go au natural and let the curls fly free simply because I didn’t have the time or patience for a dramatic, breathtaking coiff. But then the banana clip entered my life and saved the day!

The banana clip opened very similarly to that of a venus fly trap. You’d clip it in the back of your hair so you’d have this big, billowing, curly ponytail. It saved me so much time, energy, and stress. I would clip my large mass of hair back and found I looked absolutely adorable in a matter of seconds.

When I decided to add Sun-In to my hair, that’s where my dad drew the line. The commercial for Sun-In showed beautiful blondes with their “sun-kissed” hair frolicking on the beach. I wanted that summer, beachy look. Unfortunately, Sun-In turned my hair a shade of orange that would make even Donald Trump blush. I supposed I didn’t notice the drastic change because it was a gradual process, (kind of like the time my son turned orange because he enjoyed too much beta carotene), but I did learn something that summer. When my father asked me what I had done to my hair and I explained what I did, he demanded that I stop using the vile product. Being the rebellious teenager I said, in defiance, “No! It’s my hair!” to which he quickly rebutted, using his lightning fast attorney instincts, “No it’s not!” I had no idea I was not of legal age to manage my own hair.

Thank God Demi Moore sported a new stylish pixie cut in the movie Ghost my senior year of high school. It gave me the courage and an excuse to chop off my hair for easy, effortless, yet trendy, manageability.

Ah yes, fashion is a fickle friend. I’ve learned over the years while it’s fun to experiment, I (personally) should be more on the conservative style of fashion. It’s best for all involved really. I haven’t totally given up the dream of dying my hair pink, but I'm not exactly sure if my hair fully belongs to me. Although my dad is gone, I'm pretty sure that even though I’m 48 years old, my mom would kill me.