Girl About Globe | Of beehives and gender in obituaries

RIP the ultimate tease. The woman who invented the beehive hairstyle has died.
The news of Margaret Vinci Heldt’s passing, aged 98 in Chicago, appeared in newspapers from Taiwan to Malaysia, Ireland to the US. That made me glad.
Not because I wear a beehive. Sure, there are many humid days in Hong Kong when one’s hair is bigger than one might wish. But any of my beehives are accidental.
The interest is for another reason.
The beehive was the signature style of the 1960s. People cite the Sixties as the time of ‘women’s lib’: mini skirts, free love, the pill.
Fifty years on, ‘women’s lib’ still has a lot to do. Women are not honoured as often as men when they die, and the coverage of the beehive inventor is notable as an exception.
“Obituaries about men far outnumber those of women in top national and regional newspapers,” says the Women’s Media Center, an organization which aims to ‘amplify women’s voices’, in its report, “The Status of Women in US Media 2015”.
It’s not a phrase much in use but, dearly beloved, it seems there’s a glass gravestone. Women don’t get gender equality after death, and rigor mortis prohibits any attempt to ‘lean in’.
Obituaries count. Too few obits for women sends a message: men’s lives and achievements matter more than women’s.
Here, I could start writing a female RIP wish list. Or a different kind of bucket list: obituaries to be achieved for women after they die. But if life, or death, for women isn’t even close to ideal despite more than fifty years passing, I am tempted to dream bigger. Say, if we lived on Venus, or a female sci-fi planet of the future, where – of course – there would be no gravity around the boobs and jowls, who would the obituaries be of?
(Well, whomever had invented that gravity thing, for a start.)
Obits on Venus would be of women who did great things; but also women who did things that largely only women might consider great. Hailing women, and attaching value to what’s significant to us.
So, yes, of course, writers and scientists, teachers and travellers.
But also, the designer of Spanx (other slimming intimates are available). And whoever thought of eyelash extensions – that’s an extra ten minutes in the morning. And yes, to the creator of the beehive, and the creators of subsequent hairstyles and hair equipment that made women happy.
And obits for forgotten women who deserved recognition. Like those who lived in Hong Kong before hair straighteners. All deserve the Victoria Frizz, for bravery.
From Venus, back to the beehive. Heldt created it for a magazine, experimenting with ways to achieve a “tall wraparound crown, creating a circular silhouette, with high-rise accents.” To those in the industry, it’s one of the great styles invented by a hairdresser, as Heldt was. These days, famous styles are popularized by celebrities, like the ‘Jennifer Aniston’ look.
Why was the beehive so popular? It seemed to need so much ‘doing’ – all that lacquer and teasing. Was it the added height? A pair of heels for the head? Did Heldt wear one regularly? She reached 98 – I am hoping the secret to long life might be back-combing every day.
It was a style that appealed to the rebellious – Amy Winehouse – and the gracious – Audrey Hepburn. But it was eminent on its own merits, strong enough to enjoy endorsement from famous heads but not need it. I hope the eulogy at Heldt’s funeral explained its appeal, and lauded its inventor. An elegant parting. Just like a beehive.