Seminar Provides Advice on Cloaking Cancer’s Damage

At first glance, Patricia Arthur seems the picture of health.

In a crowd of women, she stands out in her striking purple turban and the dramatic lavender eye shadow that accents her almond-shaped brown eyes.

Only after she tells you she’s a cancer patient do you notice the effects of chemotherapy: Fine pencil marks fill in where her eyebrows used to be, eye liner gives the illusion of lashes, blush colors a pale complexion and the turban hides her hair loss.

“I’ve lost my eyebrows and eyelashes, so I have to fake it,” Arthur explains.

Arthur has come from her home in Orange to Nordstrom in South Coast Plaza, Costa Mesa, on a recent Saturday morning to attend an “Image and Outlook” seminar for people with cancer. The seminar combines inspirational messages from cancer survivors with practical tips for improving a cancer patient’s image, such as how to tie head wraps and apply makeup to camouflage loss of facial hair.

“Being a woman, your look is so important,” Arthur says. “To function, you have to look pretty, because you’re going to get stared at, no matter what you do.

“You need to be creative. And you need to know you aren’t what you are on the outside. It’s what’s inside that matters.”

Many come to the seminar not just to enhance their outward appearance but to gain inner strength. The crowd of mostly women fills an entire department in the store. Some bring friends and family. A few women arrive in wheelchairs, and one tows an oxygen tank.

Here they can talk freely about cancer. Here they can meet others like themselves who are engaged in a battle to live.

“I have metastasized breast cancer. It was discovered February first,” says Judy Bergersen, a San Juan Capistrano resident and past president of the South County League of the American Cancer Society.

“When you first learn you have cancer, you think you’re going to die. Here, we can look around and see all these other women. We see them dressed up and walking around. And we realize, ‘I can beat this.’

“It’s a terrible journey to take, but it helps knowing we’re not alone. We’re all here and we’re with friends.”

The physical changes brought on by radiation treatment and surgery can devastate patients.

“When I first lost my hair, it came out in gobs,” Bergersen says.

She quickly turned to scarves and hats, but found little additional information about products for cancer patients, a population often ignored by the fashion industry.

“There’s this big gap for those who need to redo their whole persona,” she says.

The seminar begins with brief talks by speakers who have overcome cancer, including Jill Eikenberry of TV’s “L.A. Law,” who was found to have breast cancer shortly after filming the series pilot, and Selma Schimmel, founder of Vital Options, a support group that caters to young cancer victims.

At the fashion show that follows, models wear head wraps or hats and show off comfortable mix-and-match clothes. Presentations by Dermablend and Estee Lauder representatives focus on makeup that conceals scars or discoloration and will not aggravate skin that can become sensitive from chemotherapy.

“You just have to do things differently,” says Pat Shores, a Newport Beach cancer patient who showed up in an elegant red suit and hat.

“Hats are so conspicuous that I hardly ever wear them. Wigs are not as comfortable. I don’t usually wear scarves, but now I have to figure out how to tie them.”

After the presentation, patients adjourn to a private room, where they can try different head wraps, scarves, makeup and protheses.

Theresa Carpenter of Huntington Beach sits in her wheelchair before a table piled with colorful scarves while two Nordstrom employees show her how to wrap a turban.

“I don’t have any hair back here to hold it,” she says. They teach her to wind the scarf tightly to keep it from slipping.

“This has been wonderful,” says Carpenter, who came to the seminar wearing a green felt hat. “Since I found out I have cancer, I’ve felt like I fell down a rabbit hole. It’s so nice to have someone help make you feel beautiful.”

At a nearby demonstration, Shirley Weenig of Laguna Beach discovers a nylon cap that keeps her wig from sliding around on top of her head.

“Isn’t that something?” she says, smiling at her reflection in a hand mirror. “Without the cap, a good wind could come by and blow my wig right off.”

That kind of good humor inspires those who work with the patients.

“They cherish life more than other clients,” says Karen Erdman, a manager for Nordstrom. “I come out of this with a real good feeling.”

Erdman helps patients who need to revamp their wardrobes in the store’s “personal touch” program. Sometimes they have gained or lost weight and need new clothes, or they need soft fabrics that will not irritate their skin, and elasticized waistbands and button-down tops that make it easier to dress.

“Some want to look better than they’ve ever looked,” she says. “They need it more. They need people to say, ‘You look great.’ ”

Nordstrom is not alone in recognizing that cancer patients have special needs.

Up to eight patients a week come into the Salon Russo in Brea to be fitted for wigs in a private room designed especially for them. David Russo and his father, Gene, have offered the service for 10 years.

“There’s always been a void in this area,” David Russo says. “Before we came along, the patients would have to go into a store’s wig department serviced by an employee and pick a wig off the shelf.”

Often, they would choose wigs that didn’t match their coloring or facial structure, or wigs that looked too stiff.

“When people have chemotherapy, you can usually spot their wig 20 feet away,” Russo says.

The Russos, who deal in wigs and custom hairpieces, were already sensitive to their balding male customers who want private appointments so they will not have to peel off their toupees in front of other customers.

Realizing that cancer patients might also feel awkward, they started offering after-hours appointments and eventually set up an enclosed booth where they can be fitted in privacy. Area hospitals refer patients to the salon.

The Russos then “cut what’s left of their hair” and help them select a wig with the right shape, curl, body and color.

“We don’t want to put a jet-black wig on a 60-year-old woman,” Russo says.

Working with patients has special rewards for retailers.

Russo remembers an eighth-grade boy who has had cancer since he was 2. His parents wanted him fitted with a wig before he entered high school.

“I’d never seen a kid that age with cancer,” he says. “It gets you thinking about your own problems. You think, ‘If someone that young can handle this, he’s one strong person.’ ”

Russo finds that he has to be a bit of a psychologist when dealing with some patients. Some become so depressed when they first learn of the diagnosis that they can’t get out of bed in the morning. Many don’t like others knowing they have cancer, because some people still think the disease is contagious.

“Many don’t get any more hugs,” Russo says.

He tries to make up for that: “If you get a person feeling good about themselves, doctors have better luck caring for them.”