April, I decided I had enough of trying to grow out my natural hair color (I had been dying away the gray for decades!), and I made the rash decision, after seeing a J. Crew ad with Florence Pugh with a “mixie” (a combo of pixie and mullet), to cut my hair from a shoulder length blondish bob to a spiky short do. I still had some length on top and on the sides, and even at the back, but the overall look was a white-hair punk style. I knew my hair had gray, and even thought that the top of my head was fairly snowy, but I was surprised at just how white my hair had become. In the stylist’s chair, I watched myself lose long blonde locks and age ten years before my own eyes.
I like the short cut – it’s easy to wash and style and is particularly helpful given my current nomadic lifestyle. I’ve been moving through countries with various types of plugs and voltages, and so traveling with any sort of styling tools has seemed useless. I want “wash and go.” And I have it, but I’ll admit, I did not see the reaction of others coming on quite so strong.
The first thing I noticed is that while many women are deciding to go “natural” with their hair, people still look at you as if you are old. I am often asked if I want the senior discount (I don’t yet qualify), and I’ve had young men give up their seat for me (that rarely happened before). Shop assistants, on the other hand, seem to ignore me. When I buy clothes, I’ve had the staff often show surprise at the garments I’m choosing. Hairdressers, in particular, seem to loathe gray hair, and many say they will color it for me. I can’t tell if that’s because they think it’s aging, or just bemoan former and potential clients walking away from expensive color treatments every few weeks.
Shorter hair grows out fast, and so I found that after eight weeks of traveling, I was in need of a cut. Where to go when one isn’t on familiar ground? I impulsively chose a salon that I passed near my London flat. The gentleman owner, Marco, was from Italy and said he would have time to cut my hair that afternoon if I wanted, so I did. He went even shorter, removing the mullet and truly giving me a super short cut that stood up on top and generally stuck out at all angles. Again, I liked it – easy to care for and somewhat edgy.
My hair feels better than it has in years – thick, healthy, soft. I used to spend a fortune on keratin treatments, color, highlights, and cuts. And the color had to be done every three weeks! Now I go ever two months for a cut and nothing else. But I do know that I look older than I used to. The white hair, while I know in demand for younger ladies, is aging. I play with the idea of adding some color back in at some point. Maybe purple.
I look different enough from my passport photo now that I’ve had immigration officers question me. One nice lady at Heathrow said she liked it better now. Like the US, Britain is seeing a wave of women return to their natural state. But not in the rest of Europe, where I barely saw a woman under eighty with gray hair. The short cut is also unusual in countries with a more traditional focus on femininity. Long hair is ubiquitous on women from about age 2, and unless you are Mia Farrow (in her youth) or Halle Berry, long locks seem to be where it’s at, even in your 70s (see Diane Keaton). Cutting your hair short seems to say that you are less feminine than our long-tressed sisters. Add being a solo traveler and, well, three things seem to register on people’s faces:
1) You’re weird – eccentric, an individualist
2) You’re lonely – no friends or partner, an isolationist
3) You’re invisible – no one really sees you at all
The question I ask myself is: do I care if people think I am older than I am? I still feel the sting of our rigid cultural norms for women: we must be pretty, thin (and somehow voluptuous too), sexy, and young. Not feeling like I qualify for any of those. I’d prefer to be smart, confident, and independent.
For now, my hair is a bit of a statement: I’m self-assured enough to care little what a stranger thinks of me. Feel free to judge; I really don’t have time to listen. My life is on the road, and I need things to be simple; one carry-on suitcase has little room for hair care products. Someday, I will be in a different place, more rooted, and so, I may change my hair again. That’s the beauty of hair – it’s endlessly malleable. In the meantime, I’m due for another cut, and this time, am trying out a new hairdresser in Denver before I hit the road again in a few days. The website says she usual cuts with a razor blade rather than scissors. Sounds fun!
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