NOT in the slow lane YET Blog

The blog is about living life after 70 with joy, resilience, and purpose. NOT in the slow lane, YET is a source of positive, helpful advice encouraging people to set and achieve goals and find joy in life. The blog will cover personal experiences and thoughts and concerns. Topics of blogs will be health, retirement, fashion, travel, and living in continuing care retirement communities. The blogs will be short and appear at least once a month on my website www.nadineblock.com or by email if you choose. Come walk with me.

A Feather Flair Recues My White Hair

We all have a hair history.

We have dealt with whatever was handed to us: curly hair, straight hair, wavy hair, kinky hair, or fuzzy hair. We have tried new styles and colors. Our hair stories illustrate our progression from childhood to old age, reflecting the biological and cultural changes that occurred throughout our lives.

Often, we change our hairstyles and colors as we enter new stages of life. In old age, I accepted my white hair after resisting for a long time. I not only accept it, but I love it. It occurred as the result of a bit of creativity and courage.

An almost white-haired blonde child, my hair grew to a dirty blonde shade. By the time I was in high school, I was lightening my hair with lemon juice. I dyed my hair green for St Patrick’s Day in college. What a mistake! It took a year to eliminate the green. Once, I opted for a short Vidal Sassoon haircut with my blond hair jutting spikily from my head. It required expert monthly maintenance, and it produced unsatisfactory results.   I indeed began to see my hair as a means of expression.

I went from using lemon juice to self-administering a blonde dye, and later, I had a hairdresser do it. That went on for decades. My hairdresser suggested I let my hair go white. I flinched. I was eighty years old and should not have been startled by the advice. I was old, old, old. Some of my best friends still dye their hair, and some continue to take hormones to maintain a more youthful appearance.

I was walking into a new chapter of life, not one I had wanted. Accepting white hair felt like caving in to old age. I liked being blonde. Blondes get whistles, even old blondes. White hair means being ignored.

I told my hairdresser wryly, “You are not a particularly good businessperson. I will rarely see you after my hair turns white.”  He helped me through the transition with blonde highlights, and I seldom saw him after I turned completely white, a year later.  I was grateful to him.

I was liberated—no more sitting for a couple of hours in a beauty shop every month. I could stop retouching my roots. It was cheaper. I wash my hair, air-dry it, then use hot rollers.   After my transition, I saw my hairdresser only for haircuts.  Something I had dreaded was not as bad as I thought. I was “liberated.”

There were downsides. My hair was not smooth, shiny, or healthy-looking. It was still thick, but coarse, wiry, and sometimes unmanageable. Some of my hair was wavy, and some was straight as a stick. The all-white hair cut in a straight bob, which my hairdresser favored, made me look like a mushroom.

And it was boring, boring.

I saw a woman on a trip with feather extensions in her hair. I could do that and make my hair more interesting.  Colored feathers would break up the white hair.   I inquired if anyone at my nearby salon could do feather extensions. A few days later, a callback gave me her name and an appointment. I had already shopped for extensions on Amazon and had a packet of teal and burnt sienna feather extensions, along with the necessary equipment to install them in my hair, a pack of beads, and two little implements.

It was an immediate success. I was no longer invisible. People stopped to ask about my hair, and often inquired about how the extensions worked. I express gratitude and sometimes share my hair journey if asked. It takes my hairdresser about 30 minutes to shampoo, blow-dry, and put three or four feather extensions in my hair. I get this done once a month.

Despite having extensions, I can still shampoo and style my hair using hot rollers. The little colored rooster feathers sometimes “molt”… I have tugged too hard brushing my hair, or they have grown out, leaving the beads down the hair shaft. Grown-out beads look unsightly, like small insects. I pull them out and get new ones. It still amounts to maintenance, but my hair is no longer boring. It makes me feel unique.

Embrace your natural hair. Explore your creativity. Develop your unique style.

Having natural hair is liberating, but sometimes you may want to add a touch of style to your look. It may take a little courage. It does not just take feather extensions: little clippies and barrettes with gemstones or pearls can jazz up your hair.   You can change your part or explore a new haircut. You can get inexpensive synthetic braided hair headbands that match your hair color. In your browser, type “synthetic braided hair headbands” for a list of resources. I often reach for a headband when I am having a bad hair day.

Embrace your hair journey! At my age, I consider it a blessing to have hair.  It’s fun when the hair makes me feel good. 

Note: Co-Pilot AI editing tools used 6-21-25