ME: I see that you are once again wearing a wig.
MAN WITH WIG: I don't know what you are talking about.
ME: You have a wig. On your head. There. Above your eyebrows.
MAN WITH WIG: Really, no idea. No idea at all what you mean.
ME: You are wearing a wig. Like you did before. The same wig, I think.
MAN WITH WIG: Hmmm. Whatever you say.
ME: So, you continue to deny that you are wearing a wig, or what?
MAN WITH WIG: Can we talk? Over here? Where other people can't hear us?
ME: Sure.
MAN WITH WIG: Thank you. Okay. So.
ME: Yes?
MAN WITH WIG: I would like to ask you not to do that.
ME: Do what?
MAN WITH WIG: Point out the wig. Please.
ME: So you admit to wearing a wig?
MAN WITH WIG: Here, please. I would like you to not mention it in public. I would like you to stay mum about the subject of wigs in general and my possible wig in particular.
ME: Are you uncomfortable with the fact that you wear a wig?
MAN WITH WIG: That is neither here nor there. This is about something much, much larger and broader. It's about civility.
ME: How so?
MAN WITH WIG: A man—or woman—in a wig (I'm not saying me, mind you, just referring to a hypothetical bewigged person) has entered into a sort of social contract. They have donned a wig for a reason. Like, say, lack of hair. Or an embarrassing haircut. Or a little piece of hair sticking up in a place where it shouldn't.
ME: Oh, yes. I know about that. I had a terrible cowlick when I was a child, and spent long minutes obsessing over it in a mirror before school. I would add lots of water to a comb, and comb and comb and comb to try to get it to stay down. Sometimes I'd use a foaming hair product of some sort, but only on that spot, so that I had one little crisp lock of hair that invariably stuck out anyway, only in a clumped bundle instead of a more natural, loose spray.
MAN WITH WIG: This is not about you and your weird thing. This is about wigs.
ME: I'm sorry. I got distracted. Please continue.
MAN WITH WIG: As I was saying, the bewigged have entered a sort of social contract. They have worn a wig to keep away from embarrassment of some sort. The wig covers the embarrassment. It should also cover the bewigged from having the wig pointed out to them. The wig serves both functions: it covers embarrassment and it says to others: "There is something embarrassing below, so please do not mention me. I am standing—or sitting, or lying—here in place of embarrassment. If you point me out, it defeats the purpose."
ME: But a wig is a wig is a wig. Your are saying that to point out that a wig is a wig is wrong and that a wig is not a wig but sign of something else. I will allow that a wig is both. But I will not allow that a wig is not a wig.
MAN WITH WIG: But don't you understand that you must? What the wig stands for is more important than what the wig is!
ME: We will have to agree to disagree. I don't believe either of those things—that a wig is a wig and that a wig is a sign—trumps the other.
MAN WITH WIG: And this is why you are evil. Good day.
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Illustration for this post is by my lovely and multi-talented friend Brittain. Thanks, darlin'!
If you are an illustrator, and you would like to collaborate with me, send me an email.
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Don't forget about the band Tao Lin and I started.
