Andy Warhol’s wig

Andy Warhol’s wig was more than an accessory in these diary entries: it was part of his public appearance, an object that could be taken from him, and later a personal artifact he could give away. Its meaning shifts sharply between the Rizzoli Bookstore in SoHo, where an attacker pulled it off during a book signing, and a small dinner where he presented an old hairpiece to Jean-Michel Basquiat framed as a gift. The contrast makes the wig both conspicuously public and distinctly personal.

An Element of Public Appearance

At Rizzoli Bookstore, Warhol was signing copies of America on a balcony above the main floor. He had been at the signing for about an hour when a woman in line handed him her book and pulled off his wig. A man ran out of the store with it. The sudden removal turned an ordinary part of Warhol’s appearance into the center of a public disturbance, with people and cameras watching from around the signing.

The setting mattered to Warhol’s account of what followed. He noted that he was seated, that people were above him, and that the arrangement left him poorly positioned to respond. He also described himself as worn out and said the incident happened too quickly. The wig’s usual function was to help sustain a recognizable public image; at the bookstore, its removal made that image vulnerable to an action he had not anticipated.

The Signing Continues

Store staff called the police and asked Warhol whether he wanted to stop. He declined to end the event while people were still waiting with books. His Calvin Klein coat had a hood, which he pulled over his head before continuing to sign. He remained there for roughly another hour and a half, presenting an outward continuation of the signing even as he later described the experience as shocking and difficult to take in.

The diary preserves both that public composure and his private uncertainty. Warhol considered how the crowd might interpret the scene and how a physical response from him could have led to lawsuits. He was also troubled that people apparently knew something might happen but had not warned him. The theft therefore affected more than his appearance: it altered his sense of safety at an event where the audience and staff had seemed welcoming. His decision to continue signing did not mean the incident felt inconsequential; he described himself as acting as though it did, while trying to absorb what had happened.

Protection and Its Limits

Warhol connected the incident with a recently acquired crystal that was supposed to protect him from events of this kind. He placed that belief beside the attack without explaining the crystal’s failure or changing his view of it. The juxtaposition nevertheless gives the wig’s removal an added force: an object associated with his appearance was taken in precisely the kind of public encounter from which he had hoped to be protected.

Afterward, Bernard drove him home, and Warhol gave him ten dollars. At home, the diary moves to food and telephone calls, but the account of the signing remains unresolved. Warhol did not tell Pat Hackett what had happened when she called to ask about his departure for Washington the next morning; he said he could not face discussing it. The missing conversation marks a difference between performing composure in public and being ready to recount the incident privately.

Hairpieces as Personal and Public Objects

In a separate entry, Warhol brought Jean-Michel Basquiat an old hairpiece at a small dinner arranged by Tina Chow. He had the wig framed, marked it with the year 83 while acknowledging that he did not know when it was actually from, and identified it as one of his Paul Bochicchio wigs, a Paul Original. Basquiat was shocked by the present. The episode gives the hairpiece a history and a recipient: rather than being worn or displayed as part of Warhol’s own appearance, this older wig was made into a framed keepsake and transferred to someone else.

Wigs also circulated as office talk. Warhol complained that staff spent time gossiping about his wigs, evidence that they were noticed even away from the public signing. A later work entry describes him preparing for photographs for the English Warhol’s 1986 Self-Portraits show with his hair in curlers. That detail concerns the preparation of his image, not necessarily a wig; it nevertheless places hair and its presentation alongside the repeated work of making pictures of himself. Across these entries, the wig moves between personal styling, public scrutiny, a moment of unwanted exposure, and an affectionate gift.