Leila’s Hair Museum, a small, quirky museum in Independence, Missouri, is closing its doors for good. The museum was founded by former cosmetology instructor Leila Cohoon and was home to more than 2,000 intricate hair wreaths and 600 framed pieces, many dating to the 18th and 19th centuries. It also held strands attributed to figures such as Marilyn Monroe and several U.S. presidents.
After Leila Cohoon’s death last November at 92, her granddaughter Lindsay Evans took on placing thousands of hair-art pieces with new caretakers. The work has attracted attention from major institutions, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, the National Museum of Women in the Arts in Washington, D.C., and the National Museum of Funeral History in Houston, whose staff recently selected about 30 examples for their own collection.
Victorian hair art became popular in the 19th century, when locks of hair were commonly saved to commemorate milestones or deaths. The medium reflected an era obsessed with sentiment and symbolism: hair, resistant to decay, represented a lasting physical connection.
Leila’s Hair Museum was one of the only institutions in the world dedicated exclusively to this art form. As creepy or intriguing as they may be, its exhibits showcased the technical skill required to twist and shape hair into botanical designs. And it all started on a whim with a shopping trip that didn’t go as planned.
In 1956, Cohoon set out to buy Easter shoes and instead found herself captivated by a gold frame in an antique store window. Inside the frame were strands of hair, delicately woven into floral shapes.
“She said forget the Easter shoes,” Evans told the AP. “My granddad always said that this was the most expensive piece of the museum because look at what it started.” Evans said she’s keeping the frame as an heirloom and reminder of her grandmother’s legacy.
What Happens Next
As the rehoming continues, Evans is balancing logistics with emotion. She admits her grandmother never revealed how much she spent building the collection, but she estimates its total value could exceed $1 million. Still, for Evans, the work has never been about the numbers: It’s about ensuring the art and the stories behind it don’t disappear once the museum’s doors close.
“I want people to see all of this because that’s what she wanted,” Evans said. “But when this is empty it’ll break my heart a little bit.”
