From drag queens to cancer survivors: how wigs transform identities

For three years, Oropallo worked for one of London’s oldest wig makers, conducting consultations and advising people on the best wigs for their situations. The experience taught her that the psychology surrounding hair loss varies dramatically depending on its cause.

“When one loses hair due to chemotherapy for cancer, hair loss is the side effect, but cancer’s the illness,” she explains. “But with alopecia, the hair loss is the illness and they don’t know if it’s going to come back.”

This fundamental difference shapes how people cope. Chemotherapy patients, while devastated by hair loss (it’s the most noticeable visual impact of their treatment) at least have the comfort of knowing it’s temporary. The wig can provide initial comfort and the freedom to go out without drawing stares.

For those with alopecia, however, the journey is far more complex and consuming. Oropallo recalls one particularly heartbreaking case: a 30-year-old bride-to-be who lost all her hair overnight, possibly due to stress or Covid-19. Her hair had been long and thick—a defining feature of her identity.

“Her whole life changed because she didn’t look like herself anymore,” Oropallo says. Despite creating an amazing wig that perfectly matched her original hair, the woman remained distressed. Oropallo designed a wig for her, but she admits, “I don’t remember seeing her completely happy ever.”

Oropallo has encountered people whose partners don’t know they’re wearing hairpieces. This secrecy comes at an enormous emotional cost, creating distance in the most intimate relationships and adding psychological burden to an already difficult situation.

Yet wigs can be instruments of pure joy and transformation, as Oropallo saw during her time working with drag queens for West End musicals. “We put these guys in these wigs and their whole postures changed,” she remembers. “They had got their make-up and wig on, they were flicking the hair around and their whole persona changed.”

Oropallo also points out that wigs have long been symbols of power and status rather than shame. “Wigs used to be for rich people,” she said. “They’ve been part of really high social status.” She points to Queen Elizabeth I, who wore hairpieces as she experienced thinning hair during menopause, refusing to be seen as weakening. “She didn’t want to be seen to be changing as a strong woman, so she’d had hair pieces because having thick hair is a sign of strength.”

Ultimately, the taboo is not around wigs themselves—the stigma lies in what they’re covering. Her work aims to bridge this gap: helping those who’ve lost their hair to see wigs not as markers of loss but as tools of empowerment. At the same time, she celebrates wigs as expressions of creativity, transformation and joy.

“Being able to use your creativity to help other people, I think is really important,” Oropallo says. Whether teaching the next generation of artists at the HKAPA, consulting with someone facing hair loss, or creating elaborate period pieces for the stage, she’s driven by the same goal: helping people feel confident and comfortable, regardless of their hair situation.

As Oropallo will explore in her TEDxTinHau Women talk, wigs have always been about more than covering one’s head, they’re about our right to choose who we are.

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