The Old Gray Mare

Poppy, who has changed her blog format to "beauty advice for women of a certain age”, wrote a post on going gray. I think she was spot on in her analysis, which is why I will continue to color my hair until the day I can no longer lift my arms high enough to reach the back of my head!

My mother, on the other hand, decided last spring at the age of 68 to stop coloring her hair. My parents knew by then they were moving to Our Town and my mother figured she would just make friends with people who didn’t know her when she DID dye her hair!

In consultation with her colorist (my mother and I have widely divergent views on what things are appropriate to spend wads of money on and which are not – but that is another post entirely) my mother decided to get a short cut after going several months without touching up her color.

After she moved to Our Town she started seeing my stylist and together they are working on growing her hair out a bit. I want you to take a look at this picture of my mother:



It is a candid shot taken a few weeks ago and I want you to note she is following many of Poppy’s suggestions.

• Great cut
• Great eye glasses
• Still fit and trim
• And you’ll have to take my word for this, still dresses well and has great accessories!

Mother will turn 69 in a few weeks. Something for me to aspire to, no?

An open letter to the new stylist

Dear Tiffanie,

I'm sure trying to keep up with over-flow clientele while Heather is on maternity leave sucketh mightily. But I feel I need to give you a few pointers that might help you sustain your chosen career path.

I was pleased that you made eye contact and offered a firm handshake when you introduced yourself; I was NOT pleased that I did, in fact, recognize you. Because eighteen months ago you were shampooing my hair! Because you've only been a stylist for a year! Holy crap, maybe I should have said something right then and there. But I didn't, so let's move on.

The failure to offer me a glass of wine was a grave error. I'll over look it only because, as a rookie, perhaps you're not yet able to distinguish which clients have absolutely no problem drinking alone at 4:15 on a Wednesday afternoon. Here's a little hint. THEY LOOK A LOT LIKE ME!

The real problem is that you failed to offer me a beverage of any kind. Not even WATER. It's JULY. I was swathed in a SMOCK and a CAPE! In a room filled with small appliances that produce HEAT! I realize this was a hair appointment and not a Mensa meeting but for the love of .....

Please refrain from asking if I'd like to start with deep conditioning for my "dry ends". My "dry ends" are why I come in here every six weeks. Why would I deep condition something that will soon be snipped and strewn on the floor of the salon?

Also? I have no desire to establish a relationship with you. God willing Heather will be back in September and you will be a distant memory. I'm happy to make idle chit chat while you snip my "dry ends". However, I do not want to bond with you over the roar of thew blow dryer. Period.

The upside is that you did a decent job. And for HALF of what I usually get charged. *Note: ask Heather, WTF!* So I'll refrain from bad mouthing you all over town and simply ask that you take what I've said here today under advisement.

Best, Fannie

P.S. BTW? My hair is not fucking LIMP; it's FINE. kthnxbai.