I have decided do stop dyeing my hair. Not a popular decision if my (informal) friends and family poll is anything to go by. But I remain steadfast because I have my reasons:
– it costs over half of one month’s salary across a year
– my hair looks good for three weeks then starts to resemble raffia
– the dye process takes over two hours to effect, with another 45mins for the cut: that much time in a salon makes me antsy
– no-one is fooled as to my age.
The older I get the more low maintenance I become. My make-up routine consists of a tinted moisturiser, eyebrow pencil, mascara and a slick of lipstick. Takes all of eight minutes on a slow day. If I am pushing the boat out – i.e. adding eyeliner, I need15 minutes, tops. Throw in a shower – and the whole process from naked to “thank god she has her clothes back on” takes a round half hour.
Then there’s the other thing – my deep fear of being broke when I am old(er). I haven’t contributed to a pension since I was 45, I earn a modest income and have done so for years. And, frugal as I am, I’ve been stretching the rand to snapping point. (Frankly – the tanking of the Rand against pretty much every currency in the world is the only thing keeping me solvent right now. Not that that is anything to celebrate.)
It has also occurred to me that sitting around in a hairdresser once a month, with poisonous dye soaking into my skull, while I inhale the fumes from Brazilian blowouts, can’t be a good thing.
So – it’s time.
My hairdresser is not a fan of my plan: “You are not going to have the sparkling silver of your mother”, she informed me. “More strawberry grey and a bit patchy”. She frowned: “It will make you look older.”
I like Pascaline: she has always been honest with me. But I don’t agree – right now I look exactly my age, but with copper raffia hair. So I am willing to give it a shot. I will accessorise with hip clothes.
I grabbed the ring over the weekend and instructed the hairdresser to cut as much of the colour out as she could – without giving me a crew cut. Here’s the result. It’s going to take a few months to get all of the colour out and for the hair to settle; but I think it’s ok. “You look foxy”, said the guy who usually dyes my hair. “It’s silver-ish.”
A silverish fox – I’ll take that.