December 1st, 2009 by I’ve got a hair appointment which I am debating whether or not to keep.
As I trundled down the road with my nod-to Madonna locks (straggly, long, ill-kempt) I caught a glimpse in a shop window of the winter-stressed, greying pubic halo gathering above my head. Where was the ladylike blonde I sported in the Summer? Half-way down my head with the rest of the bleach…
Can you tell I’m in denial about something? Going grey. I have two hair issues to deal with in the coming weeks 1) Should I get my ‘ringlets’ lopped off in favour of a more appropriate style and 2) Should I cover the grey?
I’d been hankering after ringlets since I went through my ‘Victorian stage’ at primary school; back then my hair was dead straight. It took forty years for any sort of decent curl to spring into action, which is why I’m loathe to snip them.
Sadly, the Whatever Happened To Baby Jane look never really caught on, otherwise they’d be staying ‘til my Sixties. I will ponder further.
I noticed a lot more grey appearing after I’d had my boys, which I put down to stress, but in all fairness it was probably because tending to my locks was the last thing on my mind. Anyway, recent research from Unilever claims that stress as a cause of greyness in women is hogwash; it’s all in the genes.
In the local coffee shop I found myself staring at women’s hair to gauge who had and had not hit the bottle. I felt like a woman in one of those awful dubbed ads who swings her tresses claiming they’re ‘au natural’, while secretly using some sort of girls’ Grecian 2000 for the ‘worth it’ generation.
My common-law Mother-in-law walked past. She is a glowing sixty-five with a swinging grey bob. As a young Danish woman her hair was described as ‘kommune’ or ‘community coloured’ which we’d interpret as ‘mouse’ – like mine. Her friends are equally as silver (although she says one of her friends ‘manages’ her colour with a hint of blonde) and they look stunning – in part I think because they are all confident and don’t try too hard with harsh dyes or blue rinse.
Only recently I bumped into a pal I’d not seen for ages. I didn’t say anything to her but was surprised to see her looking stunning in full grey glory. (We were clubbing, it didn’t seem appropriate.) We got onto her hair and she said a few months ago she decided to let it show. She’s just into her forties, sports a stylish Louise Brooks bob, dresses on the classy side of edgy and is relishing the new her. Her decision was met with some derision but she forged ahead. Even her mum, who keeps her own grey at bay, was a little sceptical at first.
It’s tough. I’m not bothered by TV shows encouraging us to look younger but I don’t want to look like a cross between Bet Lynch and Bette Davis when I’m dropping the kids off at school. I feel like I’m on the cusp of having to trust the appearance of the real me, but I’m resisting for fear of crossing the void into pleated tweed skirts and pearls territory, a place from where there is no return…
I am the disco dancing grey!!! No, not an alien, thanks for the flattering dress sense description. It is a difficult balance to not look like you’ve also just come off a commune selling organic alfalfa seeds to rescued smoking dogs…
I know where you are coming from. I have been dying my grey hair for years (i’m 43) and currently sporting a good two inches of root waiting to be dealt with at the hairdressers tomorrow. On my last birthday my daughter said to me “Mummy you are 43 and you have silver hair…”. I don’t think she meant it looked stylish. Some people do look fantastic with grey/silver hair, but sadly I think they are in the minority. I think for most of us it’s a fast track to the process of being 40 something and invisible to go down the road of grey hair. It’s a slippery slope, grey hair one day, fleeces and crocs the next. Keep writing your blogs I love them, although don’t always have time to comment, they do brighten my day.