BEAUTY SHOP TALK

by

Vicki Charmaine Bunch

Like a pathetically naive bride on the eve of her wedding, Axelites are atingle about their prospects in the coming year. Will they win the lotto? Meet the Backstreet Boys? Will their spouse stop spitting on the sidewalk?

People just can't help being optimistic.

"There's no way this year could be any worse than the last," said aging debutante Minnie Ledbetter who had a particularly bad 1998, between sitting on gum in her Escada suit and getting arrested for public lewdness as she tried to scrape it off with a swizzle stick. She was discovered behind the 13th hole at Cottonmouth, dressed only in a flesh-tone body shaper and pantyhose.

The cream of Axel society was scandalized. Never before had someone listed in the social directory been seen in her underwear, and it was not a pretty sight. Counselors were brought in to help grief-stricken members of the Hound Dogs, an exclusive men's club with strict rules regarding disrobing in public. The organization's by-laws clearly state that taking off ones clothes is okay only when done by paid strippers. The Rhinestones and Polyester Ball had to be cancelled for the first time in its 30 year history. The very ramparts of the local aristocracy were torn asunder.

Luckily, all this happened back in May and Minnie Ledbetter, recovering from her shame, has been in a tizzy for months over her daughter Gadzella's coming out party which coincides with the Fat Stock Show. Most people don't realize it takes 25 full-grown women over a year to plan the extravaganza at which Axel society pays homage to several homely white girls with cigarettes clenched between their teeth. Joyless creatures their families hope to foist upon spoiled young men of noble lineage, accustomed to the finer things that come in flasks and all the fast cars Daddy can buy. Or, failing that, some well-shod sucker from out of town. The committee's determination is awe-inspiring.

"How did Gadzella's non-invasive procedure turn out?" I asked Minnie at the country club the other day.

"So far, so good," she said, collapsing on the chaise in the lady's locker room. "We're home free if she can stay glued together through the weekend."

I know how Minnie feels--you want your hard work to pay off. I've been fixing up Purdee Pig for the hog show and, as Minnie could attest, it isn't easy to make a silk purse from a sow's ear. But it can be done, as Minnie has so gallantly demonstrated through all the years she has spent grooming her imperious bitch, a cow dog named Loraine. As in the case of Gadzella, the whole ordeal will culminate in her grand entry, where Minnie hopes to be recognized as a fine breeder.

The similarities between dog and debutante are striking. Neither gets along with females and poor Minnie at times must resort to the muzzle or confinement in a cage. "Other bitches always start the fights," said Minnie. "They're jealous of my baby's bloodline and the glossy coat she inherited from her father, who won it in a poker game."

Glory doesn't come cheap. "I bet getting a rough cur like yours ready to show is expensive," I said.

"The fat farm set us back a pretty penny," Minnie acknowledged. "And all those lessons--speak, sit, bow. You can't imagine how much it costs."

I shudder to think what Minnie will do if she suffers another public humiliation. "Are you sure you can control her?" I asked.

"She'll be wearing her grandmother's choke collar so I can give her a tug if she jumps on people."

"Don't worry," I said. "You'll find a decent stud to breed her with."

"We better," said Minnie. "After all those late nights chasing cows in the corral, not to mention finishing school and the tango lessons."