I never thought I’d end up...making wigs for Harry Potter movies

I thought I was going to be a showjumper when I grew up – but I was six then. I didn’t really want to grow up and do things like having a proper job. Still don’t.

I went to art college and got a degree. I did graphics and fine art. And I thought I’d be able to apply my fine arts training to anything. We all thought we’d end up working for Saatchi and Saatchi, and have marvellous ideas - it was the 1980s, you have to remember. And when we left with our degrees, there were hardly any jobs out there. But I had a damn fine time.

The maddest job I ever had was having to dress up as a clown and give out free pieces of doughnut. That’s when I was a schoolgirl and needed a Saturday job.

I’ve been a sulky bar maid, I’ve worked in shoe shops. I’ve been a prop maker, and embroiderer. I’ve been a runner in Soho, I’ve researched for pop programmes, I’ve painted scenes at the BBC. I’ve been an archivist for a record label, a chef, a waitress. I made a film that was shown at a film festival. I thought I might have a career in films at one point, but then starting at the bottom, as a runner, taught me that I just didn’t want it badly enough.

The daftest interview I ever went for was for an accountant’s assistant. It was in a record company, and I knew a bit about record companies by then but the accountant knew and I knew that I really wasn’t the type for accounting.

The best fun I ever had while working was being a runner on pop videos. You just get to sit around and watch pop stars doing the work and you have to make people tea. There’s no real responsiblity, and you get involved in everything.

How did I end up making wigs? I’d been embroidering flowers and things onto excrutiatingly expensive cashmere jumpers and socks, doing piece work, from home. Then I had a baby. Having expensive cashmere jumpers and babies in the same room wasn’t a good idea. So I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was pushing my baby round the park one day when I bumped into a friend of mine’s wife, who was a make up artist and wig maker. She offered to teach me how to knot wigs. So she showed me how to do it and I just got it. I just had the knack. I got some work experience. Then had my second baby, and when she was two, I approached a company who offered me a trainee job. I learned a lot. Then I approached the company I work for now and I love it. They’re doing lots of fab movies, and it’s very exciting when you see a finished item that you’ve been able to take from start to finish. You feel very proud and very creative at being able to copy someone’s hair onto a wig – the way the hair grows, the way it falls. And we have a lovely time; we sit round this big table, with our wigs, and drink cups of tea and chat and listen to the radio.

If I wasn’t making wigs I’d like to be a midwife. I did look into it, but at my course interview I’d just found out I was pregnant, and I couldn’t stop giggling.

Not a lot of people know this but it takes three weeks to make a really good theatrical wig, from the fitting with the actor to the finished product. They cost between £3,000 and £5,000, depending on who’s made it and what kind of hair they use.

We don’t always use human hair. Sometimes we use yak hair and sometimes synthetic hair – if there are a lot of extras; and then we might weave some real hair into the front. We use yak hair for moustaches and beards.

I’ve never made a mirkin (a pubic wig). But I know someone who has. If an actress is in a period drama and she’s got a Brazilian, or whatever, we need to use a mirkin to help her look authentic if she’s naked.

To contact Sophie Eade, please click here

Sophie also has an exhibition on this Summer with several artist friends.  For more information see: www.spacemangallery.com