Women’s Hairstyles & Cosmetics of the 18th Century: France & England, 1750-1790

18th Century Hair & Wig Styling: buy the book!

Just as fashions change, so too do styles in hairstyles and cosmetics.  The second half of the 18th century is an era particularly identified with hair and makeup, as these became such potent symbols of aristocracy during the Enlightenment and French Revolution.  France and (to a lesser degree) England were the fashion leaders of this era, and it is to these countries that this article looks to identify the changing trends in hair and makeup.

In addition to a review of secondary sources (published books and research articles) on the history of fashion in the 18th century, this article draws on paintings and fashion plates as primary sources to examine the fashionable look in beauty.  While it is important to note that these sources probably idealized the subject, this is actually very useful for our purpose of determining the desired beauty ideal.  When studying clothing, allowances must be made for the many paintings depicting women in “artistic” clothing (Orientalist or Classical drapery) in portraiture, as what is portrayed is often not what was actually worn outside of the studio.  Luckily, this does not generally apply to hair and makeup in portraiture; women painted in exotic draperies generally still wore the hairstyles and cosmetics that were à la mode.

Marie-Antoinette’s toilette, her coiffeur and his assistants standing by with feathers ready to dress her hair, by Jacques-Fabien Gautier d’Agoty, 1775. Wikimedia Commons

Hair styling and cosmetics application had a particularly important function in France.  The toilette, or dressing, was a daily ceremony in which important persons were dressed (including hair styled and cosmetics applied) before a select audience; it was the feminine version of the lever.  While the ritual was created by Louis XIV and is associated with royalty, aristocracy and even members of the bourgeois classes held their own morning dressing ceremonies before limited audiences.

The ideal woman of the 18th century had hair that was black, brown, or blond (particularly fashionable during Marie-Antoinette’s reign); strong red hair was unfashionable and generally would be dyed a different color, although chestnut and strawberry blond were popular.  Her hair was of wavy or curly texture.  Her forehead was high, her cheeks plump and rosy, and her skin was white. Fashionable eye colors included black, chestnut, or blue; eyebrows were divided (ie no monobrows), slightly full, semicircular, and tapered at the ends in a half moon shape.  Her lips were small, with a slightly larger bottom lip creating a rosebud effect, soft, and red.  The paintings of François Boucher are particularly useful as a visual reference for this look.


Plate from Diderot’s Encyclopedie. La Mesure de l’Excellence

The 18th century is particularly associated with wigs, but these were primarily worn by men in the period.  Wigs were introduced in the 17th century, when King Louis XIII of France (1610-43), who had let his own hair grow long, began to bald prematurely at the age of 23.  Courtiers were quick to emulate the fashion, which spread to England during the period of the Restoration of Charles II (1660s-80s).  Over time, specific wig styles began to be associated with various professions, and thus considered de rigeur for men of the middling and upper classes.  In 1673, an independent wigmakers’ guild was created in France; by the late 18th century, the number of French master wigmakers had more than quadrupled.

However, women rarely wore whole wigs.  Instead, they increasingly hired professional hairdressers (coiffeurs) who added false hair to their natural hair.  While they were expected to augment their own hair with false hair, padding, powder, and ornaments, women’s hair was supposed to remain “natural” by avoiding the wholesale artifice of men’s wigs.

Hairdressers Curling Woman’s Hair, Charles Catton, 1780s

Both men and women powdered their hair or wig throughout the 17th and 18th centuries.  Powdering was introduced when King Henry IV of France (1589-1610) used dark powder on his greying hair.  Hair powder was originally used mostly as a degreaser.  White haired wigs were popular because they were expensive and rare, and so men and women began (in the early 18th century) to use white powder to color their wigs and hair, as it was less destructive than dye.

Hair powder was made from a variety of materials, from the poorest quality in corn and wheat flour, to the best quality in finely milled and sieved starch.  It was usually white, but it could also be brown, grey, orange, pink, red, blue, or violet.  It is important to note that the application of white powder over dark hair produces shades of light to dark grey, not the paper white seen in films and costume wigs.  White powder applied over very light hair produces a heightened blond effect.  Powder was applied with a bellows (the powderee being covered with a cone-shape face mask and fabric smock), with a puff for touchups and a knife for removal.

Portrait of an Englishwoman by Henry Pickering showing the simple styles worn in England, 1740s or 1750s

Hair was nearly always curled, waved, or frizzed before styling, in order to create texture.  Styling was accomplished with combs and curling irons, held with pins, and dressed with pomade.  When height was desired, it was raised over pads made of wool, tow, hemp, cut hair, or wire.

Looking at the period 1750-90 overall, women’s hairstyles in France and England are relatively similar.  In the 1750s, English women tended to wear plainer styles than Frenchwomen, but by the 1770s both nationalities are remarkably similar.  The major contrast seen in portraiture is the near ubiquitous use of white powder by Frenchwomen throughout the era, while Englishwomen are rarely depicted wearing powder until the 1770s.

Hairstyles of the 1750s were generally small and close to the head.  Hair was worn in soft curls or waves, with little to no height.  Most Frenchwomen powdered their hair with white powder; Englishwomen generally left their hair unpowdered.  In back, the hair was generally arranged in small curls, a twist or braid (worn pinned to the head, not hanging down), or pulled up smoothly.

Portrait of a Frenchwoman by Jean-Etienne Liotard showing the tête de mouton hairstyle, 1750s

The tête de mouton (or “sheep’s head”) style was particularly popular in France in the 1750s and early 1760s.  It featured defined twists of curls that were arranged in rows across the front and top of the head, and generally was powdered.

Ornaments included a few small ribbons, pearls, jewels, flowers, or decorative pins styled together and called a pompom (so called after Mme de Pompadour, the famous mistress of Louis XV).

Queen Charlotte of England wears her hair powdered, unusually so for this era, in the typical egg-shape of the 1760s, in a formal portrait by Nathaniel Dance-Holland, 1769

It is in the 1760s that hairstyles featuring height began to appear.  This height was generally equal to about 1/4 to 1/2 the length of the face, and is usually styled in an egg shape.  Again, Frenchwomen tended to powder their hair; Englishwomen appear to have left the hair unpowdered.

In the mid- to late-1770s, huge hair became all the rage.  The height of these styles was generally about 1 to 1 1/2 times the length of the face, and was styled in what was considered a pyramid shape (it also looks very much like a hot air balloon).

French actress Mlle de Luzy wearing a high hairstyle, 1776. Note the back of her hair in the mirror. Personal collection

This high hairstyle was created using toques (or “cushions”) which were made of fabric or cork and shaped like a heart or spear.  It was attached to the top of the head, and then natural and false hair was curled, waved, or frizzed and piled over and around the cushion.  Such elaborate hairstyles could be worn for days or weeks at a time.  Mary Frampton later recalled,

“At that time [1780] everybody wore powder and pomatum; a large triangular thing called a cushion, to which the hair was frizzed up with three or four enormous curls on each side; the higher the pyramid of hair, gauze, feathers, and other ornaments was carried the more fashionable it was thought, and such was the labour employed to rear the fabric that night-caps were made in proportion to it and covered over the hair, immensely long black pins, double and single, powder, pomatum and all ready for the next day. I think I remember hearing that twenty-four large pins were by no means an unusual number to go to bed with on your head” (1780).

Two high hairstyles, the right à la candor or the charm of innocence, in French fashion plates, 1778. Collection Maciet

The high hairstyle was often styled into allegories of current events, such as à l’inoculation (vaccine), ballon (Montgolfier balloon experiments); or concepts, such as à la Zodiaque, à la frivolité, des migraines, etc.  Ornaments included lots of ribbons, pearls, jewels, flowers, feathers, as well as ships, birdcages, and other items that evoked the theme.  In 1774, the Duchess of Devonshire created a sensation when she introduced ostrich feathers into her hair.

Side curls angled up towards the top back of the hair.  The back hair was generally styled in a looped-up ponytail or braid.  Long curls were often left hanging at the nape of the neck.  French styles often had an extra “bump” in the front of the hair, right above the forehead.  In this period, both French and Englishwomen usually powdered their hair.

Marie-Antoinette wearing the lower, transitional pouf of 1779-81 by Louis-Simon Boizot, 1781

In 1775, Queen Maria Theresa of Austria-Hungary wrote to her daughter Marie-Antoinette,

“Likewise I cannot help but touch upon a point that many of the papers repeat to me too often: it is the hairstyle that you wear. They say that from the roots it measures 36 pouces high and with all the feathers and ribbons that hold all of that up! You know that I have always been of the opinion that one should follow fashion moderately, but never carry it to excess. A pretty young queen full of charms has no need of all these follies. Quite the contrary. A simple hairstyle suits her better and is more appropriate for a queen. She must set the tone, and everyone will hurry to follow even your smallest errors…”

Marie-Antoinette wearing the coiffure à l’enfant, by Louise-Elisabeth Vigee-LeBrun, 1783. Wikimedia Commons

Marie-Antoinette responded,

“It is true that I am a bit occupied by my hairstyle, and as for the feathers, everyone wears them, and it would look extraordinarily out of place not to” (quoted in Hosford).

During 1779-81, the shape of the hair started to become rounder and height began to diminish.  This lower form of the pouf tended to be worn with fatter side curls than previously.

Maria Fitzherbert wearing the typical style of the mid- to late-1780s, by Thomas Gainsborough (English), 1784. San Francisco Legion of Honor

In 1781, Marie-Antoinette lost much of her hair after the birth of the dauphin.  Famous coiffeur Léonard Autie later claimed that he created for her the coiffure à l’enfant, which she wore, along with her chemise à la reine, in the famously reviled painting by Louise Elisabeth Vigée-Le Brun.  However, the hairstyle can be seen about a year or two earlier. Growing interest in what were considered “natural” fashion, brought about by the Enlightenment, created what was considered to be a more “natural” style in the 1780s.  The hair was cut shorter to form a large curly or frizzy halo around the head, which was wider than tall.  A small hank of much longer hair, either left straight, in ringlets, or braided, hung down the back or was worn looped up.  These styles could still be very large, and false hair continued to be used to fill out a woman’s natural hair.

In keeping with this more “natural” look, powdering began to fall out of favor, although it still appears frequently in paintings and fashion plates.  Powder fell definitively out of fashion in France with the Revolution of 1789; in England, it remained popular enough that it was taxed in 1795 to raise money for the war against the French (although this tax was the final death blow).  In keeping with the mood of the period, ornamentation became more restrained, generally a ribbon, or a few feathers, flowers, or jewels.


The Marquise de Pompadour applies rouge with a brush, Francois Boucher (French), 1758. Wikimedia Commons

Beginning in the 17th century and continuing throughout the 18th century, both men and women in England and France wore obvious cosmetics.  Gender differences were less important than class differences – cosmetics marked one as aristocratic and à la mode, and were adopted as well by those who were trying to rise in social status or become fashionable.  Makeup was not intended to look natural – in fact, it was called “paint” — but instead, “…to represent one’s aristocratic identity as declaratively as possible through cosmetic artifice” (Hyde).  Women and men showed their respectability and class through white skin, and heavy makeup was considered more respectable than naturally light skin.

Cosmetics also had practical aims – their use created what was considered an attractive face, and they could hide the effects of age, blemishes, disease, or sun.

Dauphine Marie-Josephe de Saxe wears heavy French court makeup, Liotard (France), 1751. Wikimedia Commons

In France, nearly all aristocratic women wore cosmetics (Louis XV’s dowdy queen Marie Leszcynska was one of the few who did not).  In fact, the painting of the face was a key part of the public toilette, the informal ceremony where an aristocratic woman dressed her face and hair before an elect audience.  French aristocratic women wore thick layers of white paint, large streaks of rouge, and beauty patches (mouches).

However, cosmetics were not limited to the upper echelons.  Any bourgeois with aims of being à la mode would also have worn cosmetics (although perhaps not as heavily).  Cosmetics declined in price and rose in availability over the century, and were even more frequently made at home by the less well to do.  The middle classes tended to prefer tones of pink instead of red, and applied rouge in circular patterns rather than streaks.

In the 1760s, cosmetics were growing in such popularity that coiffeuses (vanity table sets) began to be heavily advertised, and dressing rooms were built facing north for the best light.  By 1781, Frenchwomen used about two million pots of rouge a year.

The Duchess of Argyll wears very naturalistic cosmetics – light rouge, possibly white face makeup – in this portrait by Allan Ramsay, 1760. WikiPaintings

A review of portraiture shows that Englishwomen were less likely to wear obvious cosmetics than Frenchwomen in the 1750s-60s (in other words, they were wearing cosmetics but with a more natural look) – but by the 1770s-80s, Englishwomen and Frenchwomen wore nearly identical amounts of cosmetics.  In the 1780s, heavy use of cosmetics declined with the growing trend of a more “natural” look.


The key aspects of the 18th century cosmetic look were a complexion somewhere between white and pale, red cheeks in a large circular shape (particularly for French court wear) or upside down triangle, and red lips.  There were two main cosmetics worn by most women and men:  blanc and rouge.

Shiny white face paint was applied across the entire face and shoulders.  The most popular white makeups used on the face were made of lead, which was popular for its opacity despite knowledge of lead poisoning.  Kitty Fisher, a famous English beauty, died at age 23 (in 1767) from lead poisoning.  Blanc could also be made from bismuth or vinegar.  Veins could be traced with blue pencil to highlight the whiteness of the skin.


English actress Elizabeth Linley by Gainsborough, 1775.

Red makeups were made of vermilion (ground from cinnabar and including mercury) or creuse (made by exposing lead plates to the vapor of vinegar); both are toxic.  Vegetable sources for rouge included safflower, wood resin, sandalwood, and brazilwood.  These would be mixed with greases, creams, or vinegars to create a paste.  Court ladies wore rouge on the cheeks in wide swaths from the corner of the eye to the corner of the lips.  Bourgeois and provincial nobility wore neater, circular dabs at the center of the cheek to highlight the eyes and whiteness of the skin.


Lips could be reddened with distilled alcohol or vinegar.  By mid-century, red pomades (some in stick forms) for lips were being sold.  The shades of red seen on lips varied between pink and coral, occasionally veering into burgundy.

Eyes sometimes had a bit of reddish color around them, probably caused by contrast with the white makeup or a reaction to the lead in blanc, but were otherwise left bare.  Eyebrows were half moon shaped with tapered ends, and could be darkened with kohl, elderberries, burnt cork, or lampblack (soot from oil lamps).  Court men and women sometimes plucked and painted their eyebrows, or occasionally wore false eyebrows made of mouse fur.

Dame a sa Toilette by Francois Boucher

Beauty patches (“mouches”) (made of silk velvet, satin, or taffeta and attached with glue) were part of a formal and/or aristocratic look.  Their height of popularity was in the 17th century, but they still continued to be worn in the 18th century.  They were meant to heighten the contrast with white skin.  There were numerous sizes and shapes, worn in various positions with supposed meanings.  In England, they took on a political meaning, with supporters of Whigs and Tories wearing patches on opposite sides of the face.  Occasionally, patches could be worn together in designs, like trees or birds on the cheek of forehead.

In the 1750s-60s, Frenchwomen generally wore an extremely artificial look, with cosmetics used heavily and obviously.  The face was extremely pale, with rouge applied in large, round circles on the cheeks.  The eyes were left bare, sometimes with darkened brows, and lips were reddish.  In contrast, Englishwomen usually appeared somewhat naturalistic, with cosmetics used sparingly and discreetly.  The face was pale but not extreme, with the option of rouge applied in an upside down triangular shape, from the cheekbones almost to the jawline (similarly to how naturally pale women flush).  Eyes were bare, and lips were reddish.

The Countess de Bavière-Grosberg wears white face makeup, strong lip and cheek rouge, and may have darkened eyebrows, in this portrait by Alexander Roslin, 1780. Wikimedia Commons

In the 1770s-80s, Frenchwomen and Englishwomen followed the same look:  somewhat artificial, with cosmetics worn heavily and obviously, but not as extreme as in France in the mid-century.  The face was pale but less extremely white, with rouge applied in the upside down triangular shape.  Eyes were bare, sometimes with eyebrows darkened, and lips were reddish.


Bender, A. “Assistants of Beauty:  Cosmetics in the Rococo and Empire Eras.”  La Couturiere Parisienne:  http://marquise.de/en/1700/kosmetik.shtml

Corson, Richard.  Fashions in Hair, the First Five Thousand Years.  Chester Springs, PA:  Dufour Editions, 2001.

Corson, Richard.  Fashions in Makeup, from Ancient to Modern Times.  Chester Springs, PA:  Dufour Editions, 2003.

DeGalan, Aimée Marcereau.  “Lead White or Dead White?  Dangerous Beauty Practices of Eighteenth-Century England.”  Bulletin of the Detroit Institute of Arts 76(1/2) 2002:  38-49.

Festa, Lynn.  “Cosmetic Differences:  The Changing Faces of England and France.”  Studies in Eighteenth-Century Culture 34 2005:  25-54.

Festa, Lynn.  “Personal Effects:  Wigs and Possessive Individualism in the Long Eighteenth Century.”  Eighteenth-Century Life 29(2) 2005:  47-90.

Frampton, Mary.  The Journal of Mary Frampton:  From the Year 1779, Until the Year 1846.  S. Low, Marston, Searle, & Rivington, 1885.

Gayne, Mary K.  “Illicit Wigmaking in Eighteenth-Century Paris.”  Eighteenth-Century Studies 38(1) 2004:  119-137.

Haulman, Kate.  “A Short History of the High Roll.”  Common-Place 2(1) Oct. 2001:  http://www.common-place.org/vol-02/no-01/lessons/

Hosford, Desmond.  “The Queen’s Hair:  Marie-Antoinette, Politics, and DNA.”  Eighteenth-Century Studies 38(1) 2004:  183-200.

Hyde, Melissa. “The ‘Makeup’ of the Marquise:  Boucher’s Portrait of Pompadour at Her Toilette.”  The Art Bulletin 82(3) 2000:  453-475.

Kwas, Michael.  “Big Hair:  A History of Consumption in Eighteenth-Century France.”  American Historical Review 111(3) 2006:  630-659.

Martin, Morag.  “Doctoring Beauty: The Medical Control of Women’s Toilettes in France, 1750–1820.”  Medical History 49 2005:  351–368.

Martin, Morag.  Selling Beauty:  Cosmetics, Commerce, and French Society, 1750-1830.  Baltimore:  Johns Hopkins University Press, 2009.

Palmer, Caroline.  “Brazen Cheek:  Face-Painters in Late Eighteenth-Century England.”  Oxford Art Journal 31(2) 2008:  195-213.

Powell, Margaret K.  “Big Hair.”  Eighteenth-Century Studies 31(1) 2004:  79-99.

Rauser, Amelia.  “Hair, Authenticity, and the Self-Made Macaroni.”  Eighteenth-Century Studies 38(1) 2004:  101-117.

Ribeiro, Aileen.  The Female Face in the Tate’s British Collection, 1569-1876.  London:  The [Tate] Gallery, 1987.

Weber, Caroline.  Queen of Fashion:  What Marie Antoinette Wore to the Revolution.  New York:  H. Holt, 2006.

Williams, Neville.  Powder and Paint:  A History of the Englishwoman’s Toilet, Elizabeth I – Elizabeth II.  London, New York:  Longmans, Green, 1957.


  • Reply Lucinda Brant August 16, 2011 at 9:15 pm

    Fabulous post! Very informative. Extensive bibliography also impressive. Thank you for sharing!

  • Reply Isis August 17, 2011 at 2:22 am

    My favourite subject! In fact, I hold a lecture on the subject from time to time. I hope you don’t feel I’m banging on my own drum here, but I have done some experimenting with make up, using both 18th century tecniques and modern make up. An interesting thing that you don’t think about until you try, is that the degree of whiteness you get on the white make up differs depening on the pigment. Talcum powder gives just a hint of it when Titan oxide (which is closest to lead white) gives a very opaque colour. Zink oxide (instead of tin white) gives a medium coverage.

    If you are interested in my forays, there is a couple of posts here:


  • Reply Isis August 17, 2011 at 2:23 am

    Oh, and thanks for the book list- some where new to me!

  • Reply Isis August 17, 2011 at 5:48 am

    And I realize that I have already mentioned this elsewhere, so just ignore me… *blushes*

  • Reply Victoria August 17, 2011 at 8:36 am

    Great post! Informative and enjoyable!

  • Reply kendra August 17, 2011 at 9:45 am

    Isis: Actually, I’m glad you commented, because I meant to link to your post! I think experiment with period recipes is super interesting, but way more ambitious than I’ll ever get!

  • Reply Elisabeth August 19, 2011 at 6:03 am

    Love it! Love it! Love it!

    For French speaking peaople: “La poudre et le fard”, by Catherine LANOË…

  • Reply Jerry August 19, 2011 at 6:54 am

    Just plain fascinatin’!

  • Reply Olga August 28, 2011 at 4:12 pm

    Gorgeous post, thank you very much! Don’t you mind, if I’ll translate it into Russian and share link on this article?

  • Reply Caroline September 25, 2011 at 9:52 pm

    So extensive! This is an awesome article. I just got some hair powder from ageless artifice. Can’t wait to try out the different styles. Thank you for sharing!

  • Reply kayle bowen November 18, 2011 at 11:37 am

    this is amazing i am so happy

  • Reply Yve April 24, 2012 at 11:02 am

    Great post and very informative indeed. Since you know a great deat about French fashion at that time I would like to ask you something about male accessories of the 17th century. I am researching for a novella at the moment and need to know the name of a special hat worn by Leo DiCaprio as Louis XVI in “The Man in the Iron Mask” ( http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_h0SQqY8ocp4/SjeGqTKDWnI/AAAAAAAAKac/FwHnEwpPjPA/s400/tmitim_louis.jpg )
    The web has not been very helpful on that subject so hopefully you or one of your readers here can give me some information! Thanks!

  • Reply Yve April 24, 2012 at 11:04 am

    oh, damn it! it’s of course Louis XIV *lol*

  • Reply Shanna June 25, 2012 at 12:18 pm

    Awesome article. I enjoyed reading it.

  • Reply Mark T. September 7, 2012 at 2:01 pm

    This is great information!

    I am curious why women would want to powder their hair gray, which would make them look older. I’ve seen portraits of young women and even young girls from the 1700s and they have grayed or whitened their hair when they clearly did not need to. Not everyone did of course. Was this a social convention for a social class? Was it a statement about women in the Enlightenment? The salon movement? With all the imagery and hidden meaning painted into portraits back then, surely this gray hair some meaning???

    • Reply kendra September 19, 2012 at 10:39 am

      Mark: What I’ve found is this: when people first started wearing wigs (late 17th c.), grey/white hair was the hardest to come by and therefore expensive, which led to it being sought after, which led to it being fashionable! However, the hair continued to be hard to come by, so people started using white powder (originally, powder was used as a degreaser; then people started realizing you could change colors with it) as it was cheaper to buy powder than actual white human hair wigs.

  • Reply Maggy September 19, 2012 at 7:27 am

    Re. Mark’s point about powder making hair look grey (or gray..)
    I wonder if this has two aspects, one being that grey hair might convey gravitas. However is it possible that it was simply the limits of the products….if powder was white, unless your hair was already white, then it would come out grey. Coloured or tinted powders similarly could not mask an underlying darker hair colour.

  • Reply saba October 18, 2012 at 8:55 am

    very informative

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  • Reply jesica parks February 12, 2013 at 9:49 am

    thats so fun and really intresting i love anything that has to do with frtench stuff yaay

  • Reply Toile La La February 20, 2013 at 7:41 am

    Very informative and well-researched eighteenth century fashion history post – wonderful to read. Lovely images, too.

  • Reply Michelle April 23, 2013 at 4:57 pm

    Wonderful article. Being from New Orleans (Nouvelle Orleans) I have often wondered how the French women of the colony made due with cosmetics. It must have been quite an effort with the heat and humidity here. I’m sure that the French fashion and cosmetics made its way from the continent. Just some thoughts. Wonderful article, well researched.

  • Reply Elizabeth April 28, 2013 at 2:57 pm

    This was very helpful to me. To be quite frank I think that these styles were a bit over the top and rediculous. I’m glad women go quite a bit more natural these days. However this was very useful nonetheless. Thanks!

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  • Reply Tres Chic July 20, 2013 at 10:27 am

    That was a delightful article. Well researched, informative, and fun. I’m looking forward to the book!

  • Reply Fashion, Feathers, and Fascinators! - JPG Photography September 10, 2013 at 10:55 am

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  • Reply nicole quinn December 9, 2013 at 4:54 am

    I’m sorry that you believe I have plagiarized your blog posts. I’m quite aware of attributions, and believe that every post I have re-posted has your link on it. If I have omitted any please let me know the dates and I will correct them, or delete the as you prefer. Cross posting is good for all of us. It ups our rankings on the search engines.

    I don’t read comments often, my apologies for the delay.

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  • Reply Bill Hogge September 29, 2014 at 11:24 am

    Hi Kendra, Purchased gour book it is amazing. I am doung wugs for the Addams Familt the musical. One of the ancestors is a marie Antounette charqcter. I uwed one of thestyles in your book and it turned out great. I had a problem tho and thought u might be able to help. Tbiw was an old wig from the companys wig stock an old synthetic dead straight wig. I did the hot water trick to curl it and it worked just great. The problem was after spending a few dqys getting it done. When I put it on the actress head it no lo.ger fit. Could the wig cap hqve shrunk? I have washed and dressed many wigs this is the first time this has hqppened .Can u dry the wig on a wig block ?

    • Reply kendra September 29, 2014 at 11:30 am

      Just sent you an email, but in case others are reading:
      I’ve never heard of the wig cap itself shrinking when using the boiling water! I have a slightly larger sized head, so I think that I’d be the first to notice if my wigs were getting any smaller.

      You COULD dry the wig on a wig block, except since they’re usually canvas I think it would take a longer time. Maybe put it on the canvas block for a few hours, and then take it off to finish drying?

      My one question is whether you styled the wig before trying it on your actress, and if you did that on a wig block. I have had problems with wig caps tightening due to styling when I WASN’T styling the wig on a block.

  • Reply Bill Hogge September 29, 2014 at 11:55 am

    I tried the wig on the actress before styling. She has a larger sized head. It fit It was snug but it fit. I made sure when I added the extra hair to the nape that the wig was stretched. I didnt have a wig blick so styled it on Styrofoam wig head. It was an old wig. I have ordered a canvas wig block with clamp should be here next week. Coyld that have. caused the wig to tighten. Could I dry the wig on styro? Thanks I Love the book . Really informative And the wig turned out beautifully.

  • Reply kendra September 29, 2014 at 12:07 pm

    The fact that you styled the wig on a styrofoam head is what shrunk it, I’m 99% sure. Those heads are TINY, and even though you don’t think you’re tightening as you style, you are. So, I wouldn’t worry about drying the wig on a head, I’d just worry about getting that canvas wig block and using that for styling!

  • Reply Bill Hogge September 29, 2014 at 12:16 pm

    Thanks Kendra ! I am meeting the actress on Sat at the wig shop I use(thdy give me a 25%discount)we will find a wig that fits and will try again. wWITH MY WIGBLOCK. THANKS FOR THE HELP!!! Also do you know of a spray that will make the wig gliw in blacklight?

  • Reply Bill Hogge September 29, 2014 at 12:18 pm

    Also do you have any other books out?

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    Very informative and very useful !

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    Do you have any information or places to research that talk about covering facial scars? There is a scene in The Favourite that has Lady Marlborough with a lace cover on her face obscuring a bad scar. I wondered how authentic that covering was…or was it an affectation for the movie?

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