National Affairs: Chignon or Chihuahua

Having spent four years persuading the American woman to chop her hair close to the scalp, the capricious rulers of fashion (familiarly known as They) were now insisting, of course, that hair had to be longer.

“One or two inches longer,” decreed the American Hair Design Institute. “Short, chopped effects and overly sleek lines should be avoided . . .” But that was not enough. To be chic, milady also had to deck her head with a chignon. The chignon (rhymes with filet mignon) is a batch of hair, tied, rolled or braided into shapes resembling a trayful of Danish pastries. It can be the lady’s own hair if she’s grown it long enough, or someone else’s carefully matched and pinned in place.

Bellwether’s Topknot. For the short, chopped, overly sleek follower—or victim—of the short-haircut style, the new style was a shock. Even if she moved into a hothouse and buried herself in Vigoro, she couldn’t grow a chignon of her own in time to be in style. By no coincidence, the hair stylists were ready with just what the lady roundheads needed: the artificial chignon.

Last week the chignon, first popular in France in the 18305,* was staging a triumphant comeback in Manhattan. On its cover, LIFE had run a glamorous photograph of TV Star Faye Emerson with chignon. The fashion magazines were embracing the false buns, braids and curls with the ecstatic gushes and gurgles which seasonably propel new fashion twists across the nation. And milliners were joyfully proving that a whole new set of hats would be necessary. A really modish woman was expected to carry extra chignons with her (cost: $7.50 to $150 each) and to be ready to run the gamut, from Gibson Girl curls to Marie Antoinette birdcage, in one working day.

Change, It’s Wonderful. Heady from a 500% increase in its wig, toupee and false-hairpiece business, the Manhattan concern of Joseph Fleischer & Co. took an understandable position: “We are for a woman changing her hair as frequently as she changes her costumes.” Only hair bought from European women, said Fleischer experts, has the quality necessary for good chignons. The hair of Orientals is too dark and coarse; the hair of

American women is damaged by too much pampering, tinting and shampooing (all the things the beauty shops do to it). “The hair of European women is like a well-manured garden,” explained one of the Fleischers solemnly. “The quality is good, but sometimes it doesn’t smell too well.”

The designer who claims to have launched the chignon fad, one Madame Marguerite Buck of Fashion Futures, had also helped promote the short haircut. “American women carry things to extremes,” said she. “We didn’t expect them to crop all their hair off—they look like Chihuahuas.” The chignon, she thought, was the ideal answer.

“We don’t want women to grow their own hair,” said Madame. “They look like hell while it’s growing and just about when it’s grown there will be a new fashion.”

* But it all began with Psyche, who did not allow herself to be seen in public without her chignon, and gave to modern females the chignon style called the Psyche knot.