This week, I happened upon a pic of John Travolta at the Oscars (not this photo), and like a phoenix rising from the ashes of a fire at a toupeé factory, this post was born. Sure, it’s not exactly a secret that Travolta has one of the mot famous hairpieces in the business, but for the first time, I decided to actually delve a little deeper and really look at it.
The wiglet that he is wearing in the above photo is actually an older model, kind of a close-cut Ceasar kind of a thing…think of George Clooney’s ER do in the 90s when apparently every man on earth who was able to thought it would be a good idea to get “the Caesar” (it wasn’t). Take that hairstyle, then turn it up to 11, and that’s kind of what we’re working with here. his more recent permutations are longer, more slicked back; like his Pulp Fiction persona only maybe just a shade less plush.
However, as attached (literally) as Travolta seems to be to his hairpieces, he apparently is equally comfortable without it. Or a least he is when he doesn’t have a choice. A few years ago, a man working out at a 24-hour LA gym realised that the only other man in the gym (at 3am) was none other than Travolta himself – sans toupée. the man asked Travolta if he wold take a selfie with him, and he very obligingly said yes. The man instantly posted the photo to his social media account, and naturally, the picture went viral.
Travolta had to know that the minute he said yes to that photo, he was going to be all over the internet, so fair play to him indeed; he owned it with grace. And you know what? I’ll be darned if he doesn’t look better without the rug! Sure, I get it, the toupée is the public image…it’s his brand. However, I really think that he looks younger, more vibrant, and less “done” without the muskrat on his head.
Naturally, this discovery got me to widen the cast of my net, fishing in the sea of celebrity hairpieces, and admittedly, and I don’t get the chance to write this very often, I was kind of shocked by what I came up with.
Sure, there are the more obvious famous men who wear toupées…like this guy…
And of course, this guy. Obviously…
That’s Burt Reynolds by the way…in case you were born after 1990 and don’t know who that might be. (*sighs to self, shaking head). However, this last photo led me to yet another, lesser-known destination on the map of Planet Hairpiece…let’s have a look at the full version of that photo of Burt Reynolds again.
Well hello there, Charlie Sheen! Charlie was actually a late discovery for me, but looking through the Hollywood Archives of Male Scalpitude (HAMS), I learned that Charlie’s hair, which hasn’t really changed that much since the late 80s, is actually not his own.
I don’t know why I was surprised by this. You simply cannot abuse yourself in the manner that Sheen has done and epect to retain custody of things like hair and teeth, but I digress.
There are more. Many, many more celebrities who allegedly use a little extra help up top . Some pretty obvious, many less so. Here are but a few of my discoveries that kind of surprised me – although in retrospect I am wondering what took me so long to see it (see: Sean Penn).
Sean Penn. Not sure if I believe this is his real hair or not, but his red carpet hair game is such an overworked hot mess that it hardly matters.
Sure, I’ll buy it. I actually think that Costner makes no attempt at hiding his hair, it’s just a film-centric thing. Plus, I am always looking for an excuse to write about Costner.
I think that Costner is probably a little more laid when it comes to public appearances than Penn. So he puts on a rug for a film…the odd red carpet…I just cannot bring myself to care. As you may have guessed, in my eyes, this man can do no wrong. Like many women who came of age in the late 80s and 90s, I have been in love with him since he got all up into Sean Young’s…er…Southern Hemisphere in “No Way Out”. Professionally, word is that he is a rare creative soul, a champion of ideas (not just his own), and unlike Penn, pretty much devoid of the kind of portentous douchegbaggery that so plaques Hollywood. Therefore, he gets a pass on all wiglet-related activities for the remainder of my lifetime and that of any of my surviving relatives.
See what I’m sayin’ here? Sexxaaaaaay. Plus, rugby.