![]() If I hadn’t gone grey, none of my much-happier second act would have happened. My hair has never been so long and I happily ignore the suggestions that you should cut your hair as you age. Grey is now my identity, but instead of vanilla, my life is chocolate with sprinkles. I didn’t see it then as the start of something bigger, but it was exciting – it felt like a children’s fairy tale, 50 years later. My daughter was working for them and told them her mother could do it, so I got the call for a campaign that would be in Vogue. A new British drink brand needed someone to model who “had years” but still had it. Somehow going grey didn’t really matter anymore.īut then something happened. I was neither happy nor sad, engaged nor resigned, excited nor bored. I had a grey existence at the time: menopause had set in I was in the shadow of my husband had a very conservative job and a rather vanilla life all round. After lots of appointments and long afternoons in the chair revisiting my former brown locks, in late 2014 I decided to bite the bullet and go properly grey. ![]() ![]() I remember the pressure I felt as I spotted my white, glaring roots in the sun. I don’t remember what age I started to go grey but it wasn’t much later. “My mother, an elegant lady of the manor, went grey in her twenties.
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