I found my first grey hair when I was nineteen. By the time I was twenty-one, I was a quarter grey. Not that anyone knew: all my money went on maintaining the illusion of rich auburn hair. I only took a break during the first trimester of both of my pregnancies, when I relied on coloured powder – basically eyeshadow, but for hair – to disguise the bright silver roots. Headscarves did a lot of heavy lifting.
My hair was my trademark; I was easy to spot in a crowd. I was often mistaken for someone much younger and I’m sorry but I loved it. By my mid-forties I was touching up the roots every seven days and had to tint the whole thing once a week. I was bringing root touch-up kits on holiday, spending insane amounts of time and money at the hairdressers.
I followed ‘silver’ influencers and celebrities like Salma Hayek and Andie MacDowell, who are wearing their greys with pride. I’d always said I’d let nature take its course one day but kept putting that day off until I felt ready to abandon the illusion of youth. One of the last conversations I had with my grandmother before she died at 96 was about how depressed she was, because she was looking a bit old, and I realised if I waited for that day, it would never come.
I’d like to say that one morning I woke up and decided to cast off the shackles of patriarchal beauty standards based on extreme youth but actually the decision was taken out of my hands. My long-term hairdresser had to take sudden, unexpected retirement, and before I could find a new one, I moved in with my mum while she recovered from a hip replacement. I’d cleared my diary for this months in advance, so when a shocking bright white halo appeared around my face, and a line along my parting, at least Mum was the only witness. As it grew, I didn’t suddenly look seventy; I looked forty-eight, which I was. I was supposed to look like this; my skin, no longer thick and oily as it was in my youth, could no longer handle harsh, artificial red.
What I did next was a terrible idea, don’t do it, but I bought a home bleaching kit and threw the mixture in with my shampoo to strip out all the old hair dye. It worked, in that it lifted the colour, but what remained was a disintegrating yellow mess which came out in fistfuls. But it was done now. I couldn’t go back.
It took a lot of bonding treatments and violet toner but now, two years on, I have long, white-blonde hair. I have a few highlights twice a year to brighten up a steely band of grey at the crown, but compared to my previous regime, it’s nothing. It has been life changing. My friends all (say they) love it. My husband didn’t even notice for a month, which is men all over for you. Once I had my hair in a plait and a little girl on the street called me ‘Elsa’ which I thought was extremely cool.
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If I’m honest, it does make me a bit invisible. I recently turned up to give a talk at a library and was directed to the audience, because I don’t look like my author photo anymore. Some of my hair budget has gone on new clothes and makeup. Half my old wardrobe washes me out and without mascara my eyes disappear. I’m determined to keep wearing it long and not get a sensible old lady haircut; I quite like the idea of looking like a witch, or a village wise woman. I used to have the odd Botox treatment, when I remembered, or had the spare cash; now I do it religiously. Vanity indeed dies hard.
I’ve spent the last couple of years writing a novel about teenage girls, with their peachy skin and naturally melanin-rich hair that does absolutely bog all to counteract the raging insecurities of adolescence. I’ll take my white hair and its accompanying wisdom over the self-doubt of youth any day.
Erin Kelly is the Sunday Times bestselling author of The Poison Tree, The Sick Rose, The Burning Air, The Ties That Bind, He Said/She Said, Stone Mothers/We Know You Know, Watch Her Fall, The Skeleton Key and The House of Mirrors, as well as Broadchurch: The Novel, inspired by the award-winning TV series.
The Night Stairs by Erin Kelly is published on 9 July by Harvill. £16.99 in Hardback, £14 in Audio and £7.99 in Ebook.
