Home | Perreques Louis XIV Wigs Welcome to Perruques Louis XIV Wigs History of our store�?as seen in Article By Alison MacGregor, THE GAZETTE March 10, 2012 MONTREAL - It’s the beginning of a new chapter for one of Canada’s oldest high-end wig retailers. With a fourth generation of the Seminaro family now helping to run Louis XIV Ltd., the company has just moved from dated facilities on Ste. Catherine St. E. to a new outlet a few blocks west in the Gay Village. A lot has happened to the wig business over the half-century that the Seminaros have been operating in Montreal. Back in 1963, when the firm began operating out of an apartment, wigs were considered to be a fashion accessory that women would change to co-ordinate with each outfit. A stylish woman didn’t mind that it was apparent she was wearing a wig or hair piece. “They had wigs in many colours,�?owner Rosina Seminaro said. “A woman would change her wig when she changed her dress. It was like going to buy candy.�? Nowadays, wigs are more often worn to create an illusion of beautiful, natural hair.

Gorgeous, thick, lustrous hair is considered in many cultures to be a symbol of youth, health and social status. That link between lush locks and youth was reinforced during a recent visit to the shop when a thirty something model donned a stunning wig a shade lighter than her natural dark brown hair. “It’s crazy,�?exclaimed Sophie Leblanc when she looked in the mirror. “She looks like a teenager,�?Seminaro said, laughing. The first generation of Seminaro’s started in the wig industry after Rosina Seminaro urged her family to try their hand in the business, she and her younger sister Santina Guglielmetti, a partner in the business, recalled during an interview in an office where walls were stacked from floor to ceiling with wigs. Their mother and grandmother, immigrants from Italy, had just sold a restaurant and were eager to get into a new line of business. Seminaro noticed that wigs were trendy and urged her mother to try selling them. “I said: ‘If Grandma and you put the money together, I think you can do something,’ �?she recalled. The business quickly grew by word of mouth and the company moved into its first storefront on the corner of St.

Denis and Ste. Catherine Sts. in 1963 before moving in 1975. As teenagers, Seminaro and her sister would go to the boutique after school and hang out with their mother, grandmother and customers to learn the trade. “I used to come after school and eat french fries and watch the hairdresser,�?Guglielmetti said. “I took over the hairdressing of the wigs �?it’s 44 years that I’ve been combing the wigs.�? Today, the sisters run the store with the help of 10 employees, while Seminaro’s son, among other family members, is a silent partner. Wigs and hair pieces have been used since ancient times to disguise hair loss, for religious and cultural reasons, for convenience or simply for fashion. Today, they are heavily used in the fashion, TV, film and performing arts industries. Wigs are also becoming fashionable again as an easy way to alter one’s appearance without resorting to a drastic haircut, hair dye or time-consuming styling.

Much of the growth in the business over the last two decades has been fuelled by a proliferation of celebrities and fashion models that have admitted using �?or are rumoured to use �?hair extension and wigs for special events or in their daily lives. Some Hollywood insiders have called the widespread use of wigs and hairpieces as one of the industry’s best kept secrets. Singer and actress Beyoncé Knowles, for example, is rumoured to have a wig collection worth more than $1 million. And the trend is becoming more mainstream as regular folks increasingly view wigs, extensions and hair pieces as a simple and convenient way to have beautiful hair or to quickly change the way they look. The Wig and Hair Goods Industry, a U.S.-based clearing house for industry information, estimates that the wig and hair goods sector in the United States and Canada to be worth well over a billion dollars annually. Rising demand has even helped fuel a string of human hair thefts from hair salons in the United States, the New York Times reported last year. Seminaro says wig usage is much more widespread than many people realize.

Natural hair thinning with age or hair loss due to illnesses such as alopecia, cancer and autoimmune diseases is common and some women and men choose to disguise such conditions with a wig or hairpiece, which can be undetectable if chosen with care, she said. Although many of her clients work in the arts, others are regular people who wear wigs for convenience and fashion, she said; some women even take wigs on vacation so they don’t have to worry about styling their hair after spending the day at the beach. Improvements in technology have made wigs and hair pieces more comfortable and so realistic-looking that no one can tell they are being used. Back when Louis XIV was founded, most wigs were made of human hair, which is much more expensive and hard to maintain, Seminaro explained. Clients used to drop their wigs off every week to be washed and styled and the store employed a full-time hairdresser for this task. Today, most wigs are made of synthetic hair, which is more affordable and easier to care for and style, but which will not last nearly as long in everyday use as a human-hair model.

Still, a quality wig that feels good and looks natural remains an investment, with prices ranging from $90 for a basic synthetic wig to over a thousand dollars for a high-quality, human-hair product. “For me, there are two kinds of wigs �?the wigs you wear for Halloween and those you can wear every day,�?she said. Clip-in hairpieces, which can be added to a wearer’s own hair �?or to a wig �?to create more volume, are priced from $40 to approximately $250, she explained. Most human hair used in wigs comes from India, China or Europe, Seminaro said. The most expensive wigs are handmade, with hair hand-tied onto a cap made of “monofilament�?�?a translucent material that allows the wearer’s scalp to show through, making it appear as though the hair is growing from the wearer’s scalp. Such wigs are particularly well suited for people suffering from hair loss. Another sought-after feature in wigs is a “lace front�?that creates a natural-looking hairline, allowing hair to be pulled back from the forehead without the wig being apparent.

The most expensive wigs are “full lace�?wigs which enable wearers to part their hair wherever they want or pull it up into a high ponytail, for a completely natural look. Depending on the wig and the activities of the person wearing it, it can be secured with clips or a special adhesive. Louis XIV’s new location has more than a thousand wigs for women, men and children in stock, with a special section in the basement set aside for wigs reserved for opera and film productions. “You’re not going to find anybody who has my stuff,�?Seminaro said as she led a visitor down a flight of stairs to the basement. Primarily a wholesaler, the business sells wigs to retail outlets across the country. It also serves members of the public but by appointment only. The store is discreet and serves only one retail customer at a time for privacy reasons, since many clients �?particularly those with illnesses like cancer, don’t want to be disturbed while choosing a hairpiece. Seminaro declined to provide financial earnings information about the privately owned firm.

Among the store’s clients are the Opéra de Montréal and the Cirque du Soleil, as well theatre, film and television productions, fashion shows and photo shoots, and well-known actors and actresses. Seminaro said she particularly enjoys fitting wigs on people who have experienced hair loss due to illnesses. She recommends that cancer patients undergoing chemotherapy come in for a wig-fitting before their hair falls out. “Sometimes they wait because they think that their hair hasn’t fallen out yet,�?she said, “and then it does and they panic.�? Antoinietta Seminaro, Founder Project MUSE - Illicit Wigmaking in Eighteenth-Century Paris Illicit Wigmaking in Eighteenth-Century Paris Mary K. Gayne (bio) Abstract Guild statutes awarded master wigmakers in eighteenth-century France exclusive control over the hair industry. The wigmaker guild was uniquely organized on the basis of a royal charge that wigmakers purchased prior to becoming guild masters. Non-masters who ran independent wigmaking enterprises committed a crime against the social order that was taken seriously by the state.

The essay describes the social network that spanned from the monarchy to the Parisian neighborhoods and that supported guild officers' routine confrontations of illicit wigmakers. Despite guild regulations to the contrary, illicit wigmakers, through their continuous presence, expanded their identities and, benefiting from bourgeois consumerism, contributed to historical changes in the hair industry. Confrontations with illicit wigmakers are examined as a form of conversation concerning the social organization of work. Conclusions are based on 635 confrontations with illicit wigmakers by guild officers in the presence of the Police du Châtelet between 1723 and 1764. Take the image of the workshop provided in the entry for "Wigmaker-Barber" in Diderot's Encyclopédie ( fig. 1 ) and imagine the workshop on any floor of any building, on any street in any neighborhood, in eighteenth-century Paris.

Article 58 of the 1718 Paris wigmaker guild statutes reads: "To the Barbers, Wigmakers, Water and Steam Bath Providers alone belongs the right to shave and style facial hair, to give baths, to make wigs, to offer steam baths, & to create all other sorts of hair products, as much for men as for women, without which others can only interfere at the risk of confiscation of their products, hair supplies, utensils, & 300 livres in penalties." 1 Is there anything in the engraving that permits us to presume the image depicted a legal workshop run by a master wigmaker? What outward clues did guild officers intrinsically recognize as telltale signs of illicit wigmaking? The seven men and two women pictured reveal through their comportment many of the manual activities that constituted the very essence of wigmaking. One worker, located near the freestanding wig block, combs and curls a fully finished wig. Another shaves the only client in the shop. His tools—probably a razor, scissors, soap, and other ointments—are located in a satchel at the base of the client's chair.

A third worker, facing the shop window, is positioned to see passersby, customers, and if necessary the guild officers. He probably has a sculpted wooden block stabilized between his knees, which he uses to set the underside of a wig. The girl hair weaver next to him prepares the hair he will eventually require. [End Page 119] Another worker, probably just returning from a house call, employs the daylight, a mirror, and a small knife to lift powder from his face. The oldest man in the shop keeps a close eye on the worker styling the wig, while he attaches hair to a wig block. The boy near the chimney labors under the watchful eye of an older woman, who hands him curling irons to put on the fire. The activities depicted in this picture and described in the entry for "perruque" in the Encyclopédie were the same activities typically recorded as taking place when guild officers confronted illicit wigmakers. Given the possibility of discovery by guild officers, what did illicit wigmakers think of themselves as doing when they chose to engage in wigmaking practices?

On the other hand, if illicit wigmakers and master wigmakers performed the same basic activities, what difference did it make if the consuming public engaged the services of illicit wigmakers? Click for larger view View full resolution Figure 1. Perruquier Barbier. Plate 1. Encyclopédie. Recueil de planches sur les Sciences, les Arts libéraux et les Arts méchaniques, avec leur explication. Vol. 8 (1771). Courtesy of the Charles Deering McCormick Library of Special Collections, Northwestern University Library Guild officers' capacity to police prescribed identities provides one explanation for why guilds were sufficiently powerful in the eighteenth century. To enter semi-private spaces within Parisian neighborhoods and conduct inspections for illicit wigmaking, guild officers required the support of masters that composed the Paris Barber-Wigmaker & Bath Provider Guild—which, at its peak, was composed of 1,014 members. 2 The Guild also depended upon the willingness of their mostly male customers to respect the social hierarchy and recognize corporate authority by relying on master wigmakers to oversee production of their wigs and to facilitate their hairdressing services.

Despite guild officers' continuous efforts to protect the master wigmakers' monopoly, illicit wigmakers, operating in open workshops, in clandestine rooms, and in clients' private spaces, made continuous contributions to the wigmaking industry throughout the eighteenth [End Page 120] century. This essay begins by outlining the social network that spanned from the monarchy to Paris neighborhoods and served officially to support guild officers' routine confrontation of illicit wigmakers. The second half provides a description of other social networks that supported illicit wigmaker activity and reveals how it was that these wigmakers were assured the opportunity to construct and enhance their own identities within the eighteenth-century world of work. 3 In theory, guild participation mandated established business owners' socialization and it allowed individual masters to focus on producing quality products. Guild privileges insured masters' commitment to the common good, defined simultaneously as the interests of the monarchy, of the consumer, and of masters' livelihoods. Guild officers, as established senior masters rooted in local commercial culture, were presumed to have the required knowledge to decipher superior goods from inferior goods, and to distinguish masters committed to the common good from unincorporated interlopers.

Two underlying social motivations, specific to the wigmaking profession, framed the guild officers' discussion of trade regulation with the state: first, a genuine desire to protect their customer base, and second, constant anxiety concerning the need for vigilance in protecting members' investments in wigmaker charges. Wigmaking was an industry with particular concerns when it came to protecting its customer base. The sale of the wig to the consumer was never meant to constitute the end of the master wigmaker's relationship with the finished product. Masters anticipated wigs sold would be reasonably durable products that could sustain multiple returns to any wigmaker's shop for cleaning, combing, and resetting. The product's regenerative potential implied a temporal unfolding of its full value and, as a result, the master wigmaker hoped placement of a wig on a wigwearer's head would mark the beginning of a relationship between the wigwearer and the wigmaker--a complicated relationship mediated by the wigwearer's social calendar, his experience of wearing the wig, the growth of hair on his shaved scalp, and the wigwearer's confidence in the wigmaker. The customer's ability to justify the purchase price ultimately depended upon aftercare.

If wigs of inferior quality could not be rejuvenated for subsequent use masters were deprived of their practical mastery of the craft. In this way, the illicit worker, who could not, by any institutional means, be held responsible for the quality of his product, posed a genuine threat to master wigmakers. Concerns about product quality manifested themselves at all levels throughout France when master wigmakers, guild officials, and royal administrators discussed and debated wig regulation. In October 1712, the Lyon Wigmaker Guild presented a petition to local police magistrates. According to the petition, masters, responding to complaints regarding the poor quality of certain wigs sold in Lyon, had required guild officers to step up policing of statutes forbidding usage of bleached hair or of wild goats' and lambs' hairs. Bleached hair was originally brown hair; therefore, by their very nature, wigs made with this hair were worth less than naturally blond wigs. Guild officers explained they were not only concerned with the uneven exchange between consumers and merchants or simply with the possibility that lower priced wigs might undercut the market for naturally blond wigs.

The real problem was the unusual treatment required to [End Page 121] turn brown hair blond destroyed the quality of human hair, making it too thin to maintain its curl and contributing to an increased tendency to break. Even if wigmakers mixed this hair with naturally blond hair, the finished wig did not hold its curls when worn because of the presence of corroded hair. As for wigs made with lambs' or goats' hairs, the hair of these animals, in terms of thickness, was naturally uneven. Wigmakers could not properly curl hairs that were too thin and hairs that were too thick separated from other hairs preventing against uniform curls and resulting in a deformed wig.

Guild officers pointed out that the merchant or individual consumer, who paid full price for defective hair, was "tricked by the limited usage he could make of the wig." As a result, he "justly complains of the excessive price and of the bad merchandise he is sold; he constructs an unfavorable idea of the Wigmaker of this city; and, losing confidence he previously had, he searches elsewhere to make his purchases and the Wigmaker Guild finds itself in this very manner exposed to ruin." 4 Guild officers were not only concerned with purchases of private consumers, but also with those of Lyon merchants, which signifies that the products were coming from unestablished sources. Guild officers based product inspections on a belief that the common desire of established masters to protect their livelihood allowed for maintenance of an agreement to forgo instant profit amassed by deceiving consumers. By routinely requesting information and commentary from master wigmakers, the Controller General and Lieutenant General consistently reinforced the Guild's authoritative position. In 1768, a civil case concerning wig quality came before the Lieutenant General. To resolve the case, he asked guild officers to provide an expert's report regarding the wig that master Dugard made for a spice merchant.

The dispute concerned whether the underside of the wig properly fit the wigwearer's head. Guild officers, after observing the proper placement of the wig on the spice merchant's head concluded, "the underside is well made for his usage, and thus Rissouan should pay Dugard thirty livres, our estimate of the wig's value." 5 In accepting the judicial decision, the spice merchant systematically acknowledged that guild officers, as wig experts, were fully capable of distinguishing quality goods from inferior goods. Appeals for increased product regulation based on the public's interest in product quality did not only emanate from the guilds. In 1705, the finer details of wigmaking became subject to intense scrutiny by traitants, private investors who sought financial profit by using their links to the court to propose new methods of extracting money from the king's subjects. Focusing on craft production, these traitants sought to identify precise points of commercial exchange hair was subject to as it moved from being a naturally growing material to becoming an artisanal product. Wigmakers methodically baked hair in dough after setting it to curl and before attaching it to the wig to restore the natural moisture lost when cleaning bulk hair.

Bakers or, especially in Paris, gingerbread makers baked hair dough in the interstices of their regular work. One proposal to tax hair dough baking called for communal ovens, asserting that, in the interests of health, hair dough baking should be formally separated from bread baking. The Paris guild officers, when asked for commentary on proposals to tax hair dough baking, confirmed that wigmakers routinely paid a nominal fee for baking. Nevertheless, to tax this service was impractical and posed a direct threat to traditional wigmaking [End Page 122] conventions. Grenoble wigmakers complained that these tax obligations "destroy the liberty of commerce; because no baker is obliged to bake wigmakers' hair dough, doing it for them instead as a courtesy; furthermore, the baker initially chosen by the wigmaker cannot bake for him everyday; should he not have his oven ready when the wigmaker requests baking for two or three wigs, the wigmaker, to avoid losing the sale, will find another baker who, on the spot, can offer him services not available from the other." 6 According to master wigmakers, customers anticipated prompt and spontaneous fulfillment of their wigmaking needs.

Maintenance of customary relationships with bakers, underwritten by critical elements of community—proximity, friendly accommodation, flexibility, confidence, reciprocity, and neighborliness—were essential to product quality. Convinced hair dough baking was not a viable enterprise, the Controller General ultimately rejected a plan for communal hair dough ovens. Initially however, he did require wigmakers to select specific bakers, who, for tax purposes, kept hair dough records. 7 The practice of illicit wigmaking was a crime against the social order that was taken seriously by the state. Furthermore, interest in protecting the customer base by assuring quality products corresponded with state interests. For royal administrators, the logic constituted sufficient justification for most forms of vigilance against illicit wigmaking. However, to enter and police prescribed identities in contested space, guild officers required more than the support of the king's men. People socially constructed eighteenth-century neighborhoods. Thousands of neighbors, more or less harmoniously, lived, worked, congregated, ate, drank, and exchanged products together. Flourishing businesses and the distinctive character of different neighborhoods throughout Paris witnessed the vitality of the culture that neighbors shared with each other.

In confronting illicit wigmakers, guild officers left their proper sphere of domination and entered the space of individuals who participated in and relied upon entirely different social networks. Guild officers depended upon the support of master wigmakers who, by necessity, participated in both types of social networks—the Guild and the neighborhood. Masters consistently recognized and upheld the validity of the guild officers' actions because of the propertied interest they and their families had in the incorporated profession. Most of their neighbors, whether or not they claimed membership in a particular corporate group, acknowledged the legitimacy of protecting property and family inheritance. In contrast to most guilds in Old Regime France, charges, or licenses to operate guild-approved businesses, structured the wigmaker guilds. Wigmaker charges, which the monarchy created in limited quantities for every city and town in France, provided a unique means of regulating entry of workers into the artisanal craft. These licenses functioned as moveable property, in much the same way charges for venal offices functioned. Owners could pass them on through inheritance, sell them to another party, or rent them to another wigmaker.

Oftentimes, the Paris Guild purchased the original charges for between 1,200-2,000 livres from the monarchy and resold them at a profit. In subsequent transfers between private parties, the selling price often exceeded 3,000 livres. The possibility of renting charges inserted a fourth rung into the traditional career ladder of apprenticeship, journeymanship, and mastership. Like journeyman, renters had no [End Page 123] rights to participate in guild assemblies; but, like masters, they were entitled to exercise almost all of the charge owner's individual privileges and required to fulfill the charge owner's financial obligations to the guild. All wigmakers, prior to setting up an independent shop, were legally obliged to own or rent a charge. The charge system shifted standard family-making strategies among working families. Charge rental, as much as charge ownership, bespoke a man's establishment within his profession, and therefore facilitated marriage possibilities. For owners, the charge represented a crucial financial contribution to the marriage that the bride's family typically financed. The charge system also recast the typical experience of guild widows.

Rather than running her own business, guild officers typically pressured a mistress wigmaker, upon the death of her husband, to live on the rental fees collected from her son or from wigmakers that guild officers selected. The socially recognized importance of protecting family inheritance promoted an ongoing debate between guild members concerning illicit wigmaking. This was always a delicate balancing act for guild officers. To not police illicit workers, with financial penalties and moral condemnation, was to encourage individual questioning, inside and outside the guild, about the supposed value of wigmaker charges. Nevertheless, if guild officers were overly earnest in policing illicit wigmakers, the monarchy might perceive that there were not enough available charges to satisfy wigwearers' demands. Masters and their families counted on guild officers to be especially vigilant about taking the necessary steps to ensure that the monarchy in its constant quest for money did not repeatedly saturate the market with new charge creations. Masters' response to the tax temporarily applied to wigs in 1706 reveals the extent to which they and their families were willing to go to protect their investment. Surrounding events convinced the monarchy that master wigmakers, if not checked, would even jeopardize the common good with their overzealous efforts.

Even before the January edict took effect in May 1706, the Controller General's office was besieged with petitions from guild officers, master wigmakers, their families and some workers in Paris, Metz, Lyon, Versailles, Toulon, Aix en Provence, Montpellier, Grenoble, and Clermont en Auvergne. Royal intendants in some of the provinces also demonstrated uncertainty about the tax by suspending its collection until they could secure further counsel from the Controller General. 8 In mid-July 1706, a contingent of Parisian women, made up of wives, daughters, and girl workers, set off on a two-day journey to Versailles to secure Louis XIV's promise to end the wig tax.

One mistress wigmaker later testified concerning the protest, recounting that "she was in Versailles with other mistresses of their guild to try to obtain the king's orders to lift the tax that had been placed on wigs; this was only after their husbands and other men of the said guild had made every effort in front of Monsieur Desmarets who refused to offer them this favor, which obliged them to deliberate amongst themselves and finally to beg the wives to go to the king." Upon their return from Versailles, the women recounted the success of their journey to masters, including guild officer Macé Danguy, who supposedly commended their efforts by exclaiming, "My ladies, the Guild has a great obligation to you and we will see to it that in some way you are recompensed with bonuses." 9 Regardless of the level of agency historians assign to the women's protest, that agency was notably bound by class interests; it was [End Page 124] primarily concerned with protecting families' investment in the charges and, more significantly, the dominant position of the Guild within the wigmaking industry. Only in this respect did these women achieve, at least among guild officers, some level of prestige and recognition for their actions.

It is unclear exactly why the monarchy chose to end the wig tax on 17 July. The suppression edict indicated that the tax threatened wig exports. Other evidence suggests that attempts to classify wig styles and assign tax brackets created a logistical nightmare. Desmarets noted that one problem from the wigmakers' viewpoint was that masters were required to front the tax for wigs ordered; as such, masters could not pay the tax collectively using guild credit. "Wig commerce cannot support the cost of the control because wigmakers are poor and practically all of them without any options live from day to day . . . there is reason to worry whether all these wigmakers might create a popular riot." 10 The seriousness of the threat to individual wigmakers cannot be overstated. In just three decades, over 3,291 wigmaking families throughout France had, in one form or another, secured credit to invest more than 1,800,000 livres in the charge system. 11 In 1706, the monarchy still hoped to benefit from further charge creations as the industry expanded. Although their protest may only have been the final straw, the women were not alone in believing they directly caused the suppression.

Correspondence between the Controller General and the Parlement of Paris' Procureur General in 1711 retrospectively linked the suppression with "opposition going as far as sedition on the part of the wigmakers of Paris, of their wives, and of their girl workers." 12 A 1710 judicial mémoire recorded that the king "willingly accorded suppression given the importunity of a Regiment of girls & women of the profession, who were stirred up by [three senior masters] in concert with the acting guild officers." 13 Although the monarchy sought to avoid inflicting harm on working families, it did not simply repeal the tax. Suppression, which coincided with the creation of additional wigmaker charges, resulted from intensive negotiations with the Guild designed to locate an agreeable means of securing anticipated funds desperately needed for ongoing wars. 14 The decision to create 200 Parisian charges inadvertently exposed corporate corruption and required additional concessions from the Guild. Tax farmers responsible for collecting the wig tax were probably the first to notice something was amiss in the Paris charge system.

On 17 May 1706, wigmaker Ravet, following requirements of the new law, paid the tax for two wigs. He declared to tax farmers that master baker Huguet baked his hair dough and that he operated a shop on rue Dauphine, by virtue of the charge he rented from widow Thibault. Two days later, wigmaker Boully paid the tax for one wig. He named Potier as his baker and indicated that a charge rented from widow Thibault legalized his shop on Quai de l'Horloge. The tax farmers quickly noted that two masters claimed to rent the same charge. Around the same time junior masters, who lacked a full understanding of guild protocols specifically because statutes forbid them from attending most guild deliberations, began to question whether the Guild could convince the monarchy to end the wig tax by agreeing to a new charge creation. Talk of new charges placed a spotlight on potential buyers and rapidly resulted in demands for increased vigilance against illicit wigmakers.

When master Barallier testified before the Lieutenant General regarding the Guild's mismanagement of [End Page 125] charge rentals, he explained that junior guildsmen, suspecting that more wigmaker shops existed than charges, accused guild officers of a lack of vigilance. Taking a hero's stance, Barallier recounted that in the interests of protecting the "well-being of the Guild," he went before the guild assembly and insisted they examine the allegations. To his horror, they discovered many wigmakers operated based on "guild permissions." D'Argenson's official investigation resulted in the conviction of eighteen senior guildsmen for extortion of just over 2,400 livres from forty-nine illicit workers who, instead of renting highly sought-after charges, paid guild officers 80-110 livres per year for nonexistent "permissions." He reckoned he could probably trace the practice back twenty years; no senior masters were above suspicion. 15 In the context of protecting their family investments, the senior guildsmen's actions were fully comprehensible.

Evidence suggests that the one hundred charges created in 1701 sold to individual buyers at twenty-five to forty percent less than previous charges; therefore, even as the industry expanded, masters with the most seniority faced increasing financial losses. 16 Extralegal management of the charge system was just one option among others that senior masters inevitably explored to devise a relatively elastic means of simultaneously meeting the obligations of privileged existence, the demands of wigwearing consumers, and the propertied interests of their families. The monarchy was, however, unforgiving of the Guild for having ceded to the temptation to put family fortunes ahead of the kingdom's interests. Individual punishments were severe: permanent revocation of their senior privileges and temporary exclusion from the Guild. To assure the Guild's future temperance, the king's First Surgeon, who already collected traditional gratuities from the guildsmen, was, after extended legal debates, granted internal oversight of guild affairs. 17 Concessions aimed to teach masters that protecting the common good meant they needed to align their commitment to protecting the investment in the charge with their obligations to the monarchy—obligations that came with privileged existence.

Internal oversight contributed to substantial acrimony among guildsmen, but it also provided the experience necessary to permit them to expand their vision of the possibilities that existed within the structure of privileged existence. As shown, master wigmakers, guild officers, magistrates, and administrators shared concerns about product quality and supported efforts to protect consumer confidence. In the wigmaking industry, durable and renewable hair products created through traditional production methods assured the customer base. Institutional willingness to acknowledge, protect, and expand the formal and informal social networks established between masters and their suppliers reinforced the guild's authority. Personal practical concerns also motivated the masters. Their interest in protecting their investment in wigmaker charges provided the necessary moral support within the local communities that made guild officers' vigilance against illicit workers feasible. None of these concerns was, however, sufficient to prevent illicit wigmakers from establishing themselves both in open workshops and in hidden spaces throughout the eighteenth century. 18 The following section, in exploring the guild officers' confrontations with illicit wigmakers, seeks to understand the social networks that supported illicit wigmakers and thereby reveals the source of value and meaning inherent in their everyday activities.

[End Page 126] With orders from the First Surgeon and from the Lieutenant General, six regularly-elected guild officers, in the course of their everyday activities, listened for rumors and random talk and watched for telltale signs of illicit wigmaking. In 1740, a packet of hair hanging from a second-floor window on Quai de la Mégisserie revealed that a mercer was selling bulk hair. Wigmaker Toupet, who lived near Saint-Germain-des-Prés, was even bolder; or, perhaps, when he painted different wigs against a blue background and hung the shop sign, he simply hoped officers would assume he was a charge renter. Confrontation was not automatic upon discovery. In 1738, when officers confronted Guillaume Bourtelle in his shop on rue Bourguignons in Faubourg Saint-Marcel, Bourtelle quickly informed commissioner Parent that he had practiced wigmaking for eight years in the same location without difficulties from the Guild. 19 Various factors determined whether and when guild officers decided to pursue illicit wigmakers.

Impending prospects of a new charge creation, specific information that a master's client base was threatened, the buildup of general pressure from masters for increased policing, or the simple possibility created by new police regulations were all legitimate causes. Even though guild officers emphasized product quality when they conversed with administrators and magistrates, they did not, in the practical act of confronting illicit workers, question their wigmaking capacities. They did, however, occasionally record the presence of artificially bleached wigs, wigs made from hair of prohibited animals, wool and cotton wigs, or fil-de-fer wigs. A 1719 decree denying illicit workers the right to practice wigmaking behind the walls of the Temple, Saint-Germain-des-Pres, Saint-Martin-des-Champs, Saint-Denis-de-la-Chartres, Saint-Jean-de-Latran, and other enclosures within Paris, declared most of these wigs contraband. Legal decisions banning certain wigs did not, however, prevent them from becoming fashionable.

In justifying their decision to confront a lingerie merchant in 1753, guild officers argued that beyond selling "all sorts of bonnets, stockings, camisoles, corsets, boxer shorts, stocking caps, slippers, silk underwear, ribbons, . . . He also sells wool wigs fashionable in Paris in 1752." Most confrontations involving banned products occurred in the 1750s. 20 During this period, guildsmen were adjusting to changes in wigwearers' identities and confronting consumers' self-conscious awareness of their ability to determine product worth—a state-of-being that ran counter to guild regulation of product quality. Around 1750, fil-de-fer wigs, made from silver or brass thread, also began to appear in Paris. In 1773, Guillaume-François-Roger Molé, a solicitor from Rouen who published a satirical account of the history of men's hairstyling, wrote of the fil-de-fer wig: "Upon their appearance, alarm spread among the wigmaker people.

One must admit these hairstyles, actually hairpieces, took on a frightful exterior: they gained the imposing name of economical wigs and promised to cause neither pain nor embarrassment to those who adopted them. Rain, wind, hail, &c, they were able to defy them all: a single fil-de-fer wig sufficed for the most robust of men & would accompany him all the way to the grave." The author, mocking the idea that wigwearers could pass a wig from one generation to the next, surmised that guildsmen rallied against these wigs because their inventors were not guildsmen. In a landmark decision in December 1750, the Lieutenant General ruled in favor of guild officers' confiscation of a fil-de-fer wig.

According [End Page 127] to Molé, the transparency of interests being pursued "made murmur thrifty people; they complained that the Public & the talented were the victims of particular interests." 21 Once officers decided to target an illicit worker, they, accompanied by a huissier—who was a judicial marshal hired by the Guild, went to a police commissioner's private office, provided him with paperwork authorizing the confrontation and the confiscation of any wigmaking tools or merchandise found, and asked the commissioner to accompany them to the predesignated site. After the marshal's scribe recorded guild officers' requests and legal justifications, the party set off to the site of the confrontation. The visit was unannounced, but it was hardly a raid in the modern sense of the word. The approaching group of seven to twenty men, most wearing wigs, others carrying canes or swords and clearly marked by various uniforms and other insignia designating their status, would have been anything but discrete. The contingent typically included four to six guild officers and two office clerks, the marshal and his scribe, the commissioner, and sometimes the local watch.

Officers, for the most part, anticipated that visible status designations would be enough to win concession for the search and seizure of wigmaking materials. Two banal factors differentiated the illicit worker operating an open shop from the clandestine worker: easy access from the street or from an accessible courtyard, and signs attracting consumers. Clandestine workshops were typically located above the second floor of Paris buildings. Similar wigmaking activities took place in both types of spaces: buying and selling of hair; sorting, carding, and weaving of hair; mounting hair on wig blocks; curling and styling of wigs; tending to customers. The presence of customers was relatively rare when officers entered either type of establishment, but both received clients or went to clients' residences for barbering and wig-fitting services. Guild officers confronted both types of workers in Paris neighborhoods, in the protective enclosures, and in the faubourgs. 22 The marshal's scribe, when he recorded the activities taking place, portrayed social arrangements bearing a remarkably close resemblance to the social hierarchy of guild workshops.

In 1749, illicit wigmaker Mouret, for example, worked in a second-floor room in enclos Saint-Martin with his wife, their son and daughter, and a man that officers identified as a journeyman. Likewise, illicit wigmaker Tridant's wife oversaw the work of her son and two journeymen, while Tridant tended to matters outside the shop located in Place Caroussel. In 1750, Marie-Jacqueline Faron, with help from two journeymen, maintained her deceased husband's clandestine business from a fourth-floor room on rue de la Vannerie. For the most part, illicit wigmaking establishments were family businesses employing one or two outside workers. On rare occasions, however, social arrangements in illicit workshops took forms other than those prescribed for guild shops, providing glimpses of women-initiated businesses. In 1752, when officers confronted illicit wigmaker Dreyon, she declared "wigmaking was her principal occupation and that she worked as a wigmaker because she had the desire." In 1755, two sisters and another woman worked illegally in a third-floor room on rue du Four.

When guild officers found Menard in the apartment weaving brown hair, she told them that she shared the room with two sisters; one a hairdresser [End Page 128] and the other a wigmaker. 23 These two examples reveal that women had varying options in the world of illicit wigmaking; the lack of similar cases suggests, however, that socially ingrained ideas against women running independent wigmaking enterprises extended well beyond guild prescriptions. Sometimes confrontations with illicit wigmakers served to reveal interdependent relationships established with master wigmakers. Hair weaving was the most labor-intensive aspect of wigmaking. Hair weavers arranged pinches of hair side-by-side and interlaced them in intricate patterns between six silk threads extended on two wooden rods. All hair used in wigmaking had to be woven prior to attachment to the wig. The evidence is opaque; but it seems that women called tresseuses performed a substantial portion of this labor outside masters' shops. A 1740 confrontation with an illicit wigmaker on rue Saint-Honoré reveals that one worker's agreement to weave hair for a master wigmaker could provide work opportunities for additional family members, male or female.

When guild officers confronted Dragée in his fourth-floor apartment, they found him in his nightshirt attempting to hide the hair loom he had obviously been using under his bed. He supposedly told officers that "it was not true that he works at the profession and that should they find a mounted hair loom, it was his daughter who wove hair for wigmaker Guiller." 24 Even if officers did not collect penalty fees, workers sustained substantial loss when they confiscated wigmaking materials. In 1726, officers confronted Roussel and his wife, and they found a finished wig awaiting curling, a partially-made bonnet wig, five to six ounces of bulk hair placed on curlers, a hair loom, two spools threaded with silk, three carding tools, two wig blocks, one hundred looped curlers, a stone for sharpening razors, fifteen razors, two curling irons, scissors, and an old wig. In a highly unusual move and noting that Roussel's pregnant wife moved them with pity, guild officers agreed to leave confiscated materials with Roussel's neighbor while he regulated his relationship with the Guild.

Wigmaker Perronnette, who ran a shop on rue de la Harpe in 1725, was not so lucky. Officers confiscated all wigmaking materials found, including seven wigs, bulk hair, wigmaking tools, the pine worktable, and the bracketed shop sign with two white shaving basins hanging from its edges. 25 Historians learn remarkably little about the craft of wigmaking from marshals' accounts. No social actor to the exchange contested that wigmaking tools implied wigmaking practices; nor did they deny or feign ignorance that the king had awarded guildsmen the exclusive right to practice wigmaking. For the most part, marshals' accounts constituted a continuous series of routine but oftentimes heated conversations between authorities and working people concerning the social organization of work that were told from the perspective of the state. Typically, illicit wigmakers demonstrated no resistance when officers confronted them.

Concession, almost always unapologetic, generally took some variation on the following theme: the illicit worker or workers acknowledged participation in wigmaking practices; they consented to a search of the premises; officers located wigmaking materials and turned them over to the office clerk, pending judicial resolution and in many cases eventual auction to guild masters; and finally, the marshal's scribe, in the presence of targeted workers, finished writing the legal account begun at the commissioner's office. Occasionally workers indicated [End Page 129] their willingness to secure charges, if only there were available charges. 26 In less than fifteen percent of 635 confrontations studied, marshals recorded an alternative response. These novel responses, which most clearly distinguished one account of an illicit wigmaker confrontation from another, might be limited to a simple statement of protest; refusal to sign documents or answer questions; refusal to open doors and cabinets thereby obliging officers to call a locksmith; negotiation to assign confiscated goods to someone other than the office clerk; or, evasion by lying and storytelling.

In two percent of cases studied, belligerence; fleeing with incriminating evidence; physical attack of officers, often with curling irons; threats to kill officers; verbal and physical gesticulations designed to draw neighbors' attention to their plight; or actual enlistment of neighbors' support in an attempt to chase away or physically injure the officers bore witness to the illicit workers' anger regarding officers' intrusions into their everyday work lives. Novel responses to the confrontations were not concentrated in any particular part of the period 1723-1764 for two reasons: first, response was obligatory and, second, in responding illicit workers had the opportunity to contribute to the construction of their social reality. Officers deployed communicative tools that systematically incorporated illicit workers into the dominant ideology and required the worker to reveal that they shared a common understanding. In 1739, when officers arrived at rue aux Ours in Faubourg Saint-Martin, no one answered the door. If workers inside thought non-response might be a solution, guild officers quickly corrected them by calling a locksmith and entering the apartment.

27 Confrontations that began with the arrival of a large group of men, decorated with marks of status, ended with a ceremonial signing of marshals' accounts by guild officers, the commissioner, and, should he or she choose to accept the invitation, the illicit worker. The accounts, a copy of which marshals left with illicit workers, humiliated them by temporarily recognizing the social hierarchy in the shop, only to then expose it for the carnival that it was. Accounts noted, for example, that once inside officers found three individuals, "one of whom told us he was the master." Likewise, in 1738, the marshal reported they entered a shop on rue de Paon, and found "an individual who appeared to be the master with another individual practicing the profession." 28 In responding to questions illicit workers affirmed that they participated with the officers in a shared social reality. That most workers offered concession as their response to the confrontation does not suggest they were ceding their right to change the terms of the ongoing conversation. 29 Response was always a product of something more than willingness. They could be contained by fear or by lack of experience.

In 1725, officers stopped a man carrying an uncurled wig on rue Saint-Jacques. When Bretonneau told officers that he was doing his son-in-law a favor by delivering the unfinished wig to wigmaker Chandoras, he may not have understood officers could oblige him to lead them to his son-in-law's apartment. He also may not have known that ten days earlier a large rock-throwing crowd had attacked officers when they attempted to confront illicit wigmaker Chandoras. 30 Officers were aware that certain spaces presented heightened possibilities for novel responses. Sometimes, beforehand, they requested that the local watch accompany them to the site of certain confrontations—such as those in enclos Quinze-Vingts, near Palais Royal. No matter the location, novel response required, [End Page 130] on the part of the illicit worker, an advanced, self-conscious awareness of the situation, and, in every case, this presumed previous experience and prior social networking. The target's connection with the social space surrounding him or her contributed to his or her capacity to respond to guild officers—this implied such questions as age, gender, physical state of being or general human approachability.

When Dragée, for example, hid his daughter's hair loom under the bed, he may have been sick, crippled, or in some other state that forced him to choose evasion as his only possible response. Not all social actors were as agile as wigmaker Forest was in 1751. From the stairwell as officers approached his fourth-floor apartment in cul-de-sac Quatre Vents, they heard him shouting out a window that there were thieves in the neighborhood. As officers approached the door, Forest bolted from his apartment, locked the door, and threw the key out a hall window to someone below. When some neighbors came into the stairwell to see what was happening, Forest seized the opportunity to seek refuge in their apartment. Once a locksmith managed to unlock the neighbor's door, guild officers discovered that Forest had escaped through an open window and had used various rooftops to get to an adjacent building. By the time officers and the locksmith returned to Forest's apartment, other neighbors were in the stairwell; while one man used a sword to threaten guild officers, other neighbors fled with as much incriminating evidence as they could carry.

31 Forest's physical agility, his social network, and his relationship with geographical space largely determined his response, which mostly sought to inconvenience officers pursuing their work activities. In adopting different strategies, workers learned how to best respond, to give their opinions on how work should be organized, and to make sure that officers took their voice seriously. Even though individual costs could be high, novel response paved the ground for future responses. In 1759, guild officers learned that journeymen wigmakers were going to a man selling razor-sharpening tools on rue des Cinq Diamants for job placements. When officers confronted Pandour and his wife, she confirmed that they placed journeymen from all over in local wigmaking shops. Guild officers showed them a 1736 police sentence forbidding anyone other than their office clerk from placing journeymen. Pandour informed them "he was very familiar with the Sentence and the penalties involved but everyone earns his living as best he can." Guild officers took the names of seven journeymen who entered while they were there and searched Pandour's shop. They found three locked cases that Pandour refused to open, claiming they belonged to journeymen.

After calling for a locksmith, officers confiscated the wigmaking tools. The marshal arrested Pandour and sent him to the prison at Châtelet, where he remained, most likely, for twenty-four to seventy-two hours. 32 Although individual costs could be high, experienced illicit workers, in responding, revealed to crucial onlookers that they took their work lives seriously and they exhibited their willingness to demand that others do the same. Overtime what increased was not the occurrence of novel responses; rather, it was the initiating of conversations about the social organization of work. This increase coincided with a change in the manner of confronting illicit workers that directly gave rise to a new type of illicit worker identity. Guild officers, supported by a continuous series of judicial victories against journeymen in the courts of [End Page 131] Châtelet began, in 1748, to stop journeymen in the streets, ask to see their working papers, search them for wigmaking tools, and oftentimes request that marshals arrest them for working independently of guild masters.

33 The written format of the account changed because marshals did not begin them until after they arrested illicit workers; typically, the account began with a generic statement indicating that the mobile journeyman resisted policing efforts and arrest resulted from officers' "interest in performing their functions in tranquility and with security." 34 In making arrest part of the scenario, guild officers heightened the stakes inherent in responding effectively. On 24 December 1753, outside the grill that surrounded Saint-Martin-des-Champs, guild officers encountered Lierment, dressed in a grey wool jacket covered with powder and carrying a shaving kit and a wig. According to the account, Lierment refused to answer questions concerning his residence or explain why he illegally practiced their profession. Instead, he told them "he lived where he lived and heaped the grossest insults on them, treated them as if they were beggars, rogues, and thieves, added that he was through with them, and generally became furious." The guild officers, supported by a police sentence of 6 December, confiscated the wig and shaving kit and called for his arrest.

At this point, Lierment started hollering, "Thieves, to my rescue, they are robbing me!" He benefited from the presence of a fish and herb market occurring in the church courtyard. A large group of market women left the enclosure to come to his rescue. They attacked guild officers, their clerk, and marshal Beauvais, and punched the clerk and officers Massal and Mannoury in the face. Fearing for their lives, officers abandoned the confrontation. Police documents investigating the event reveal that among others, a master wigmaker, two mistress wigmakers, and a girl worker from three nearby guild shops witnessed events. 35 By moving the site of the confrontation from the workspace to the street, guild officers were better able to target workers who made wigs in protective enclosures and serviced bourgeois clients living outside them; nevertheless, the inherent risk was the potentially dramatic expansion of their unbound audience. Part of that audience inevitably began to include master wigmakers' most precious clients. Vulnerability contributed to journeymen's decisions to change their work habits and to negotiate better working arrangements with bourgeois clients.

Inventories found in contracts for the sale of wigmaking shops from one master to another reveal that many shops contained a chest of eighteen to fifty-four drawers designed to hold regular clients' razors and shaving linen. 36 Journeymen in an effort to free themselves from masters' shops may have encouraged customers they served to invest in personal shaving equipment. In 1749, when guild officers confronted one journeyman, they accused him of stealing his former master's best customers and demanded to know where his tools were. He explained that he left the razors with his customers because they belonged to them. To a certain extent, the vulnerability was mutual; clients presumably needed their hair styled to live their everyday lives. In 1753, guild officers stopped Joseph Galamard on rue de Grenelle and asked him what he was doing and where he was going. He explained that he was a wigmaker and he was on his way to service M. de Gallisson. Guild officers obviously curtailed Gallisson's hairstyle plans when they requested Galamard's arrest.

Many journeymen wigmakers were not particularly discrete [End Page 132] about arrangements they were making with customers; their arrogance only fueled masters' complaints to guild officers. In 1750, masters Gavinar and Batard complained that ever since Jean Millet stole their best customers, he refused to let masters enter the building where their customers lived and, furthermore, he "spoiled the wigs made by the masters in order to attract their customers away from them." Joseph Farnot complained, in 1754, that Jean Deschamps, after working for him for one month, quit and took with him six of his best customers. Supposedly, when Farnot confronted Deschamps, the journeyman insulted him and his wife, threatened to break their windows, and told them they had better be on their guard. In many ways, journeymen's assertiveness, which guildsmen labeled as "insolence" and as "a lack of boundaries," was a means of initiating the age-old conversation concerning work organization instead of being forced to respond to it.

37 In making arrangements with their customers to maintain personal shaving kits, journeymen discovered that customers appreciated the opportunity to select and possess their own razors; they also discovered that they could capitalize on the bourgeois experience of becoming consumers. 38 Journeymen were not alone in noticing that their customers' were investing in their bodies in new ways. Increasingly ornate razors and innovations to the long-standing straight-edged razor, which began to appear in the 1750s, bespoke a new market niche. 39 Shifts in the commercialization of women's hair also brought new social and financial opportunities. Although guild statutes clearly stated that the Guild claimed a hair monopoly "as much for men as for women," wigmakers had never before had opportunities to capitalize on women's hairstyling. Noble and bourgeois men relied on wigmakers for their barbering needs because they had confidence in journeymen's abilities to handle straight-edge razors; women traditionally relied upon their chambermaids to accommodate their most basic and intimate needs. Mid-century, however, bourgeois women began to seek hairdressing services from individuals specifically trained in the art of coiffure.

Some master wigmakers, recognizing the trend and, to the dismay of guild officials, encouraged their daughters and girl workers to learn the art of styling women's hair by enrolling in clandestine schools of coiffure. Beaulieu and his wife operated one such school in a fifth-floor apartment on rue des Colombiers. When guild officers confronted Beaulieu, in 1750, they found five women learning to style women's hair, including a girl worker named Theresa Costrignat who worked in master Pignault's shop. Beaulieu informed guild officers that the women were apprentices; he was teaching them how to curl hair and his wife was teaching them how to dress women in bonnets. Guild officers informed those present that Beaulieu did not have the right to curl hair or to teach others to curl hair. They confiscated five curling irons, a pair of scissors, and a sign announcing that Beaulieu and his wife cut, curled, bleached and styled women's hair and dressed it in lace. Experience, however, provided hairdressers with new responses.

In 1758, when guild officers visited Marguerite-Genevieve Mainier's school on rue du Temple, Mainier explained she was "quite surprised by the visit of the guild officers, that she does not make wigs but only styles hair, and teaches others to style hair." She told officers that whether or not she, or the five others in the room, curled hair was of no concern to the Guild. 40 [End Page 133] In the struggle for access to bourgeois women's heads, journeymen, who regularly entered private bourgeois space, also contributed to turning women's hairdressing into a specialized art. In 1760, upon arrest Ponce Bertrand told officers that he was a journeyman wigmaker who had not practiced wigmaking for two years and that he did not have working papers; instead, he worked as a women's hairdresser.

In 1763, thirty-year-old Jean Lamourroux, who carried barber's linen embroidered with his initials, told guild officers that he was a journeyman wigmaker and a women's hairdresser living in enclos Quinze-Vingts and "that he was looking for a charge to rent or to buy, and, in the mean time, it was necessary that he live." 41 Journeymen and other illicit workers, benefiting from larger social movements, created hybrid identities that did not presume an aspiration toward guild membership and in doing so they forced a re-evaluation of what it was that curling irons and scissors signified, and they consequently drew boundaries around the guildsmen's monopoly. Despite masters' awareness of the lucrative possibilities that existed in the eighteenth-century hair industry, these boundaries once again placed new limitations on the guild officers' ability to protect masters' investments in wigmaker charges. Guildsmen faced the continual problem that, apart from investment in the charge, the labor-intensive craft of wigmaking required a relatively low investment in tools, materials, and workspace and a high investment in customer service.

By their simple presence in eighteenth-century Parisian neighborhoods, illicit wigmakers individually challenged the guildsmen's monopoly and questioned the value of the charge. These men and women chose, for the most part, to practice wigmaking because wigmaking provided working people with one possible means of constructing a social world made up of primarily their family and their immediate neighborhood. Because loss of livelihood inevitably placed constraints on those with whom they ate, drank and socialized and on those who sought their services, the individual costs of confrontation and confiscation of merchandise could be quite high, even if the general costs of establishment were relatively low. In the practical act of responding to policing efforts, illicit workers calmly or angrily let officers know that, even if the king had awarded privilege, it was in the day-to-day neighborhood interactions that the boundaries of that privilege were going to be determined. Day-by-day, month-by-month, year-by-year, illicit workers, in responding to the guild officers' demands and continuing to provide wigs and barbering, curled locks and sculpted hairstyles, put forth that there were other social networks that supported their activities and they successfully created many of the conditions favorable to their continued existence and that contributed to their expanded identities.

Peter Owen - IMDb IMDb 7 May 2010 2:05 PM, -08:00 | The Guardian - TV News Around The Web a list of 74 people created 15 Apr 2015 Do you have a demo reel? Add it to your IMDbPage How much of Peter Owen's work have you seen? User Polls Won 1 Oscar. Another 10 wins & 10 nominations. See more awards » Known For 2015 Woman in Gold (wig maker) 2014 Paddington (wig maker: Ms Kidman) 2013 Philomena (wigs and facial hair) 2006 Goya's Ghosts (wig designer) 2006 Klimt (wig maker: Mr. Malkovich) 2001 Birthday Girl (wig maker) 2001 The Others (wigs design and concept: Ms. Kidman) 2000 Chocolat (wig supplier) 2000 Shadow of the Vampire (wigmaker: Mr.

Malkovich) 1999 Sleepy Hollow (hair designer) / (makeup designer) 1999 Onegin (hair designer) / (makeup designer) 1999 Sunshine (hair designer: Mr. Fiennes) 1998 Beloved (hair styles designer) 1996 Marvin's Room (wig designer) 1996 The Ogre (hair stylist: John Malkovich) 1996 Mulholland Falls (other wig maker) 1996 The Birdcage (hair designer) / (makeup designer) 1996 Up Close & Personal (hair designer: Ms. Pfeiffer) 1996 Mary Reilly (prosthetic hair stylist: John Malkovich) / (prosthetic makeup artist: John Malkovich) 1995 Gentlemen Don't Eat Poets (hair stylist) / (makeup artist) 1994 Little Women (wig designer and maker) 1994 La partie d'échecs (wig maker) 1994 Wolf (wig maker) Perruque Dalida - YouTube Perruque Dalida Want to watch this again later?

Sign in to add this video to a playlist. Need to report the video? Sign in to report inappropriate content. Rating is available when the video has been rented. This feature is not available right now. Please try again later. Published on May 23, 2015 Perruquier Créateur sur Facebook , Je coupe, coiffe et transforme des perruques de toutes sortes pour la scène, le spectacle et le transformisme Je les complète d’accessoires (postiches, métal, fleurs, objet) pour réaliser des coiffes selon vos projets. Perruquier Créateur on Facebook, I cut, cap and transforms wigs of all kinds for the stage, the show and transmutation I complete accessories (wigs, flowers, metal, object) to make headdresses according to your projects. Category

Question: What did a perruquier make?
Answer: Wigs