Ice Castles

"Ice Castles"
Patricia Prieur Plauche-Perriman


I must say I'd never considered getting one of these hairstyles myself before, but have long admired the immensely complex, cathedral like structures that adorn the heads of our servants, cashiers, and kitchen staff! While in the company of my peers I pretended to share in their derision of these splendorous creations, I secretly had the utmost admiration for them, bordering upon lust! When I discovered our local Moler Beauty College has begun offering a whole line of at-home kits, well, I simply could not pass it by. There were several which had many fascinating qualities, most notably the majestic splendor of "#19 Chartres," the tidal, pacific magnificence of "#12 Hawaii Five-O," the simple, vertical austerity of "#6 Habit of the Sisters of Perpetual Motion" and even the tasteless and hippopotumine "#13 Atlas Shrugged” - colloquially known, I'm told, simply as “Powerball." It was the sheer immensity, however, of "#22 Ice Castles" with it's spires, battlements and minarets reaching toward heaven itself that held me enrapt!


Well, my nieces wedding was that week and I thought it a splendid opportunity to "come out of the closet" about this matter, so to speak. I ordered it secretly from their website and added rush processing. I spent the next two days calling them on the hour making sure it would arrive on time, for the wedding was Sunday and it was already Thursday! Finally on Saturday it arrived! I seized the enormous parcel and rushed into my boudoir, my four precious Borzoi and my six Persians in tow - and locked myself in! It was far heavier than I expected, as the package contained nearly a gallon of lacquer. A few hours after opening the package I had the massive template sprawled out on the double-king bed, and upon fitting it, realized I had not a tenth the hair necessary for this enterprise. I sat upon the bed in a state of frustration and pondered my condition: was I to go to the wedding - tomorrow - in this ordinary bob? I then recalled that L'Keesha, my scrub woman, was fond of hair extensions and may have a few thousand spares, or two. I sped downstairs and caught her in the foyer just as she was just about to leave early, and ordered her to rewash the pots, which I claimed were spotty and filthy as was her state of dress, for which she was duly reprimanded. After several moments of "Miss Patricia this" and "but Miss Plush-Perriman that" I sent her straight to the kitchen! She clumsily left her purse in the foyer providing me with a rifling opportunity! Unfortunately, the purse contained only the clips, even though after counting there were under two-hundred! How cheap! I appropriated them anyway and sped back upstairs and slammed the door! I hoped she spent all night cleaning those pots!


Now in a state of utmost despair, I did as I always do and sat and indulged in a wondrous therapy: brushing the magnificent coats of my prize Borzoi. My eye caught the mocking insolence of the clippers laying about on my vanity - but then I arrived suddenly at a solution as I gazed into the reverent brown eyes of my loving hound, Anastasia. Why I had everything I needed! Without hesitation I snatched up the clippers, whirled round to face my dogs, and went to work! First Anastasia! Then Tatiana! Then Alexei! Then Nickolaus! Oh damn it, I'll do the Persians as well! And the parakeets! After just under an hour I had most of the pets in the house shorn bald, and enough hair to make two Ice Castles! After much work I had the template affixed to my head and full up with hair, began to work the various lacquer pumps with my feet, then, as per the instructions, plugged the template into a convenient wall socket and waited. When the structure had sufficiently hardened the cardboard was far easier to pull off than I had expected: a marvelous feat of engineering! As I gazed in the vanity at the finished product, I pondered the immense sacrifice of my adoring pets - but was dumbstruck at the sixteen cubic foot magnificence of my new Ice Castle, adorned by the bright green feathers of my parakeets - an Uptown touch. I stayed up the remainder of the night fearing that sleep would damage this new capital possession, and as I took the shivering dogs out for their brisk dawn saunter through the lovely azalea strewn gardens of uptown - and with the impudence of unruly servants receding into oblivion - I felt as if every fiber of my being were striving towards the very heavens! Everyone I came across stared at me in a state of consummate envy. The morning zephyrs shook the crepe myrtles and showered me with blossoms! A jasmine breeze held aloft the most perfumed lauds! The periwinkles and daffodils lifted their heads in purest praise as the bluebirds and cardinals sang a whirlwind of exalted blessings round my towering edifice; and even my beloved dogs could not resist gazing with jealousy - as their glorious coats now shared a heavenly estate with the very stars.


Breathless owing to this state of glorious advancement, I returned to my Third street address feeling a refreshment of the spirit as never before! Suddenly, I received a call from my niece who delicately inquired as to the possibility of my bringing the hounds to the reception, as there would be an artist present and her fiancée would have so liked to have a seated portrait done with them on that day. I explained to her such whims were utterly delightful to me, and I would be charmed to indulge such a caprice! Realizing the limousine would be unsuitable to my new hairstyle, I arranged for L'Keesha's man-friend to taxi me to St. Patrick's Cathedral in his pickup-truck. Arriving accompanied by a blaring soundtrack of Usher, I gathered up my four marvelous hounds on their quadruple leash, dismounted the vulgar contraption that had been my escort, ascended the steps of this most glorious construction, and swatted the massive oaken doors with my parasol. As they swung open, there exposed was Father Harrigan, who along with the rest of the congregation, appeared to be in a sudden state of shock. I struck a boastful pose, and after a painfully long silence punctuated by only the pealing of bells, he gasped "Why madam, are you wearing your dogs?" He then wagged his finger at me and had the nerve to lecture me about the Tower of Babel! Outraged, I began to curse and swat him unmercifully, exposing the audacious jealousy of this bald, red-faced, shanty-Irish tub of guts - striking every gin blossom with frightful accuracy as my loyal pets hung from his flailing limbs! Needless to say I was arrested and jailed by the whim of a passing pair of lesbian constables who gravely mistook my station - but treated my hairstyle with generous courtesy.

Well, jail is most unpleasant and I cannot recommend it but I received more useful advice - there were several graduates of Moler Beauty College there - regarding the care of my new fashion in just fourteen hours at this dismal place than I could in ten years of uptown living!