in between black and white are pigments of gray. but what about love and hate? is there such a thing as in between or is it merely “either you love or you don’t?”
i’ve made the decision not to dye my gray hair. as a result, they’re coming in like wild dandelions, reckless and noticeable. originally, i thought i’d wake one morning to find all my gray hair lying flat in one dense area, making a lovely emmy lou harris streak…not so much. almost a year has passed since the first dozen appeared, and the grays are everywhere lacking order and restraint.
i recently bought a box of temporary hair color in what would later be known as a borderline relapse. I was feeling too young to go gray. After all, i’m in my early 30s and having these rowdy strands sticking up and in random places can look frumpy, messy and simply blah.
but i couldn’t do it. (have i grown attached to them already?) if i began the battle, i would surely lose…the task of dying, redying and hiding. i quickly realized it just isn’t worth it. i’m supposed to go gray whether i like it or not.
so i’d like to think i’m currently going through one of those awkward growth spurts (much like junior high) that one must pass before they enter the gates of womanhood or, better yet, before they are granted a head full of white hair.
lately, i’ve come across woman who are proud of their grays, wearing them like a rare fashion accessory. after all, there is something insanely euro and intelligent about a woman who goes gray. here is how it is done:
(above photos from the sart)
(and didn’t jovovich-hawk use a gray-wigged model in two of their lookbooks?)