Could Gray Hair Be My Silver Lining?
by Cathy Fischer of 50 Is The New
I thought of writing about a topic other than my hair, but my dear friend and chemo companion Wendy (who accompanied me to all four treatments, where we’d yak for a few hours, leaf through magazines, then go out for a fabulous lunch) insisted that I update those who are anxiously waiting to know if I’ve gone gray or returned to being a slave to color.
First, a quick recap/update:
In January, I posted “Wigging Out” which chronicled my going from hirsute to hairless, in just three days. It started when my hair began falling out after my first chemo treatment for breast cancer. I shaved my head, preemptively, to avoid the horror-induced depression of finding clumps of hair on my pillow or even worse, having a head resembling the cruelest of all male baldness patterns—the Franciscan monk look.
In hindsight, the quote about the “joy” of being hairless was true. It was a relief not having to shave or pluck, cut or color, for a few months. I’m pretty sure that most of the money I saved on hair maintenance went directly to shoe purchases. “Do what makes you feel good” was my motto, which often manifested itself in the form of new shoes, dry vodka martinis or extra crispy french fries.
In late April, I wrote “Gray Matters”. It was soon after the Susan Boyle phenom and a New York Times piece about how the perception of age—not gender, ethnicity or race—is the most difficult to change. I pointed out how I tend to date younger guys (although it’s been so long since I’ve had a date, all bets are off), wrote about working in a young industry and confessed my fear that going gray would make me look dukes of haggard-like.
Fast forward to the near present.
I went back and forth on the color thing. A lot. Finally, I made an appointment with a new hairstylist who does great short cuts. My plan was to shape and color it all—except for the cowlick in front that grew in as a swirling shock of silver.
That was my plan but Julie, the hair genius, convinced me otherwise. She said the gray smatterings made me look soft and if I didn’t like it, I could come back and she’d color it for free. So, I decided to brave it for a week and see what happened. Two weeks later I’m still au natural, and I actually like it. I’m getting pretty good reviews too.
This chic new look has me fantasizing about Japanese designer clothes and moving to Manhattan. And when I’m not thinking about how much I hate my neck, I’m groovin’ on the cropped hair, which for the first time, has a Josephine Baker-esque wave going on in the back. Luckily my eyelashes have returned, and that’s important since now it’s all about the eyes. (Melissa says it’s the lips, but, really…it’s all about the earrings.)
In “Gray Matters” I did some heavy pondering. Could I make a crack in the stereotype, or would I be seen, as mentioned in the Susan Boyle article, as “harmless and useless”? I’ve yet to determine how our ageist society will respond. I haven’t been job or man hunting, and I haven’t had to change my makeup or style, so far….
Will I stay gray and let it go all the way? It’s freeing and fabulous, but, as I recently learned from What Not to Wear, “Hair is an accessory and you should treat it as one. It’s not a permanent fixture.”
From Rapunzel to Samson and throughout the ages, hair has been a metaphor for transformation. I too have been transformed, and like brilliant sunshine after the rain, the outpouring of love, humor and inspiration—from friends old and new—has been the shiniest silver lining of all.
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