Press

Tuesday, September 7, 1993

Village Wigs Out

Boa feathers fluttered, black polyester clung and hair was everywhere – teased up, frizzed out and curled into a Louis XIV crown.

Yesterday’s annual Wigstock – “a festival of love and wigs” – packed in the crowds in the East Village and made Tompkins Square Park look like a runway preview for Frederick’s of Hollywood.
The annual exhibition was strictly for giggles – no one was wearing politics on his sequined sleeves.
“It’s a gay celebration without the political overtones,” said David Kooy, 36, a Washington D.C. realtor with a Carol Channing wig and a tennis skirt. “I think this is a hell of a lot more fun.”
“These are people dealing with the AIDS crisis every day,” said Owen Hartley, 42, a Capital Cities executive, from beneath an 18th century French cascade 0of curls. “This is a good way to lift your spirits.”
It did just that for the stage performers, the drag dressers and the straight spectators.
Begun in the ’80 as an outgrowth of the drag scene at the Pyramid, a local club, Wigstock has grown to be one of the major entertainment events in the neighborhood. This year’s scene and stage acts – including the band Deee-Lite and drag entertainer Ru Paul – were captured by documentary filmmakers.
Cameras clicked at the throng, which included a blue-wigged Spiderwoman; a 7-foot San Diegan in fishnets, and a man called Billy Beyond who smothered himself in red greasepaint and wore an Eastern headdress while singing “Shiva, the Hindu Homegirl.”

PRIMPING: Two participants in the eighth annual Wigstock "festival of love and wigs" in Tompkins Square Park ready themselves yesterday for a promenade while two local residents look on. photo: Misha Erwitt

“It’s not to self-promote. It’s having fun,” said Jon Laspinas, 23, a University of California student dressed in plaid hip huggers, a foil vest and lame. Atop his head was a Day-Glo hat of words: “Me, Me, Me.” He opened his vest, baring his chest for another photographer. “I feel like a star!” he gasped. “You are,” replied the cameraman.
“We think Labor Day needed to be shaken up a little bit,” said Jim Johnson, 45, a gay accountant who came to watch. His straight sister, visiting from Tokyo, could only gasp: “I’m still recovering.”