Elsbeth

If you want to feel good, the best you've ever felt,

if you want to look in the mirror and say,

"Yeah, that's who I want to be,"

plus you can afford 20 to 30 grand,

there are only five people in New York who can make it happen.

Yeah, the ship has made port.

40 containers are being offloaded now.

-Oh, thank goodness! -(overlapping, urgent chatter)

Bobs, beehives, bouffants.

That's right. I'm talking about hair.

These are the best wigmakers in the city.

They call us...

I really do, and I'm responsible for this...

Bruce Grellan.

Handles opera, theatre, ballet and pageants.

He's had three Miss Americas.

We won't say which ones.

-Listen... Andrea Fowler.

Does the Upper East Side "ladies who lunch"

and the Orthodox community.

She makes the best sheitels on the East Coast.

Please.

Domenico Cappelli.

Creates looks for the divas of TV, film and music,

including Cynthia Erivo's bald cap.

Allegedly.

Living trust.

Persimmon makes wigs

for the drag world and exotic dancers.

She's made an art of the comfortable merkin.

And then there's me.

Please! I don't have anything.

Felix West.

They call me the Rug Doctor.

I do convincing toupees for Wall Street types

and wigs for medical hair loss.

My hairpieces may not get write-ups in Dress Up magazine,

but it's noble work.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

(overlapping, urgent chatter continues)

Yep, here it is.

Your shipment is delayed.

-What?! Delayed?! -(overlapping, angry chatter)

Listen, listen.

I have the Rosenkrantz-Schwartzman wedding

and the Schumer bris on Saturday!

And I can't tell two Drag Race champions

they're gonna be bald Friday night.

I have a pageant mom threatening bodily violence

if she doesn't get the wiglet I promised

for Little Miss Manhattan!

Okay.

Sir, we paid extra for a rush on Molten-Gold.

It has to be here.

Molten-Gold is the good stuff.

Virgin, blond hair, never been treated.

As silky as it is rare.

I don't know what to tell you people.

Try again tomorrow.

(stammers) What?! -(overlapping, angry chatter)

So, here I am, struggling to finish another toupee

for a crypto king's wedding in Lake Como.

The same old grind.

That is, until she walks in.

I would've recognized that head anywhere.

22, maybe 22 and 1/8th inches.

That Dame of Daytime.

Lina Vyanti.

Felix, right?

I'm so sorry to barge in like this,

but I just had to see you.

Me?

You made a wig for one of my producers, Britney,

when she was going through chemo.

Can you do the same for me?

Oh, my gosh, I'm so sorry.

Wh-When did you find out?

Oh, no. (scoffs)

-I'm not sick. -Oh.

Five days a week at America's breakfast table in HD...

I'm so tired of those haters nitpicking my wigs.

I just want one of your flawless, natural looks.

But you're a client of Domenico Cappelli.

And he's been great up until now, but I need a new look.

Oh, I can't take a client from another wigmaker.

It's just not done.

What if I pay you extra?

Introduce you to all my showbiz friends.

And there it is.

A ticket out of the Wall Street offices and sad hospital wards.

Did I lose you?

Ms. Vyanti...

Lina, please.

Lina. (chuckles)

You know something? I'll do it.

-(gasps) Great. -(laughs)

Will you have it in time for the Dress Up Annual Gala?

This Saturday?

I need to look fabulous.

Gisela Mott is a dictator in Dior.

For you, Lina, of course.

Now, listen, Domenico says my hair color's impossible to find.

Oh. Don't worry, Lina.

I've got a stockpile.

You can count on me.

Everything is going according to plan.

The Lina Coif is nearly complete.

Some of my best work.

I just need to...

What?

I only have the sideswept bang to finish, but I'm out of hair!

No...!

-(indistinct chatter) -(passing horn honks)

Without that hair, my dream is dead.

Frizzed out before it ever had a chance to set.

And then I see it.

My ticket out of toupee torment: a Molten-Gold ponytail.

I don't know who she is. I don't care.

I'm blinded by the glow of that Molten-Gold.

It's fate.

Everything is about to change.

Once Lina struts the Dress Up red carpet

in a Felix original, the sky's the limit:

magazine profiles, the cover of Snip and Tell.

Oprah and Gayle will fight over me!

I'm on my way.

Hello?

Hello, Felix. It's, uh, Domenico Cappelli.

Oh, hi.

Yeah, yeah.

I didn't see you at the customs office.

You know, the shipment arrived, finalmente.

Oh, that's great news.

Yeah.

So, maybe the Rug Doctor, he doesn't need that hair anymore?

I'm sorry. What do you mean by that?

I think you and I need to talk.

-(door closes) -Hello?

Domenico?

-(gasping) -What do you think you're doing?

People who steal clients, they don't get to eat Mama's sauce.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Oh, falso. Lina Vyanti.

She canceled her appointment.

She told me she was gonna use her natural hair

at the Dress Up Gala.

Che ridicolo.

A good sauce, it's-it's like a good client.

It takes time. It takes patience.

You nurture it, you stir, you stir, and you wait.

-(yelps) -I put in my time with Lina,

and you just think you can take her away from me?

So, this is what we're gonna do.

From now on, you are gonna consider yourself my employee.

-Your employee? -Yeah, that's right.

I am gonna take a percentage of every wig you produce.

You know what?

You are really living up to an Italian stereotype.

Oh, yeah? Yeah?

Well, if you don't, I'm gonna tell everyone

where you got the Molten-Gold for Lina's wig.

That's right.

I know about your little pony snip.

And when word gets out that you're using stolen hair,

you are finito, Rug Doctor. Over!

They won't even hire you at the Spirited Girl Doll factory!

How much do you want?

Considering? I'll be very reasonable.

I want 40%.

40 perc-- That's extortion!

Esatto.

So... do we have a deal?

Okay. Fine.

We have a deal.

Grazie.

-(sizzling) -(screaming)

-(sizzling) -(screaming)

Oh, uh, this way, Ms. Tascioni.

Ms. Tascioni.

Officer Chandler, can I ask you something?

If you respond to your mother's text with just a thumbs-up,

that's not good, is it?

I mean, it's not bad, but it's not good either.

It's like emotional beige.

You're analyzing emojis?

Yeah, maybe I'll just tell him...

You want my advice?

Play it cool. Let him come to you.

It's a new thing I'm trying. Talk less, listen more.

Well, I'm pretty sure he's mad at me. (chuckles)

Hey, it happens. You're his mom.

He'll reach out eventually. We always do.

I don't know.

I'm not very good at-- Whoa.

What is that incredible smell?

-(Elsbeth gasps) -(camera clicking)

-Ooh. -(quiet chatter)