Six years ago, in April 2014, I had my hair cut and coloured ahead of a wedding. A rich deep red, I thought; bordering on purple, my daughters said. I’d been getting redder for around twenty years. ‘What colour is your hair?’ my youngest daughter asked, frequently.
That summer I decided, I would go cold turkey on the hair colour. I let it grow out just enough to show the roots of grey, then I went short. Very short, and to be honest not quite as grey as I had anticipated at that stage.
These days my hair is decidedly grey at the front, getting slightly darker to the back. ‘That’s always the way’, my hairdresser says. ‘If hair was darker at the front and greyer at the back, no one would ever feel the need to get it coloured.’
Friends who have not yet taken that plunge are now posting pictures of their greying roots, wondering how to camouflage the stripe along their parting. This wise old granny is feeling quite happy to have embraced the grey before it was forced upon me. However, nearly two months on from its last cut, I’m maybe not quite so content that the tightly shaven shape of my hair is growing out quite fast. I’ll resist the scissors and the self-styled hair and go for a softer look for now.