Stories from the Nest: Wig Power
Our nest is where I create art, write, and share Pacific Northwest food and wine with those I love. I hope you enjoy the stories as they take flight from there to here.
Wig Power
Sebastian asked me to come to his DJ gig. He was going on at 11 pm. I’m an in-bed-reading-at-9:30 kind of girl. I was way out of my comfort zone.
“What should I wear?” I asked him and his girlfriend Kea. “I guess I could go retro and wear mom jeans. Wait. Maybe not. I would look like a mom.”
“Maybe not jeans?” they offered.
I found the neon pink wig in the picked-over Halloween section at Target. It has tiny lights buried in the pink strands that pulse like they’re shorting out. Perfect for dubstep, I thought.
On gig night, I stretched the flimsy bob over my stocking-capped hair, sweeping the bangs out of my eyes into a low-slung curtain across my forehead.
“Nice!” said my husband, arriving home from work—still in his scrubs—poking his head into the bedroom to say hi. It was almost 9 pm.
I finished getting ready, tossing the three-dollar rainbow eyelashes with no stick into the trash, and walked into the kitchen where my husband was eating leftovers, now showered and in his sweats.
“Last chance, Babe. Wanna come?” I asked pulling on my chunky black boots over fishnet tights. “So, how do I look?”
“You look great.”
(Good answer.)
I picked up our cousin—the mom of two little kids—and her non-clubbing, in-college friend. My cousin wore a lavender wig. Her friend wore sparkly fantasy makeup.
We drove to the venue and lined up. It was like the old days, minus the Drum roll-your-own cigarettes and thump of “You Spin Me Round (Like a Record).”
I spotted Sebastian walking along the narrow sidewalk toward us with a couple of friends. He stopped to hug someone in line, his rainbow hair dipping in and out of the shadows. As he got closer, he hesitated and then stopped. “No way! Look at you, Mom! You look so sick!” he said, giving me a bear hug. “Kea is gonna freak when she sees you!”
We found Kea in The Yard where two DJs were playing their set, the deck built into a VW bus with the top sawn off.
“What?! Get the eff out! You look amazing! Everyone, this is Sebastian’s mom!” said Kea.
I got hugs from Pashmina-ed friends, as the crowd thickened, pulling us toward the mosh pit in front of the VW stage.
As Sebastian and his friend played, I danced solo and with everyone. I screamed with the crowd, as the music wound up, dropped, and exploded. They crushed it. He crushed it.
And, thanks to some serious wig power, I was ecstatic in this new comfort zone.
1. I hope you liked this first story from the nest
And I hope life continues to inspire me so I can maybe inspire you.
2. I’d love to build a creative, funny, and kind community
I can’t wait to hear your stories and connect with you.
3. The plan
How do you plan for inspiration? It’s tricky. What I will do is, every two weeks, publish the stories that come from creating art, writing, and sharing Northwest food and wine with those I love. And seeing as we’re just getting to know each other, for now, Stories from the Nest will be free. Cheers!
P.S. Also, even though my poor pink wig is now in the “not sure what to do with this” box, I’m going to keep my neon-coiff profile shot—a reminder to step out of my comfort zone more.