This morning I resolved to face root reality. The fading strands had gathered force. It was the aha-uh-oh moment. Fifty shades of gray–gradations of white to silver to salt and pepper—were sprouting. The vain vision quest launched.
I am not of the school that announces, “Be proud of your ‘laugh’ lines. You earned every single one.” Frankly, I don’t want to earn anything but perhaps a little praise if I ever produce anything of aesthetic note. Am I proud of my gray hairs because I “earned” them? (No, I just want cold, hard cash.)
I picked up an ammonia-free hair color package at the Kroger—shade #21. The face on the package was no more than age 19. Fine. I bow to all those talented airbrushers in NYC, LA, or wherever they do their magic spray jobs to sell fantasies to the unwashed in the hinterlands.
In the same box, #21 is Crème au Chocolat in French and Crema Y Chocolate Castaño Medio in Spanish. With a beautiful roll of the tongue, I could order a Grande size of a similar-sounding beverage at Starbucks and drink myself to death on the flavor.
#21 in American phrasing? Medium Brown. Who in the heck gets a job naming hair color of pedestrian shades?
Even I am more clever than someone who dredged up #21 Medium Brown. In fact, I’ve always wanted a job dreaming up a rainbow of paint chip names that embellish paint centers at Lowe’s and The Home Depot. I will blindly buy Benjamin Moore Calming Aloe paint for the living/dining room–because the sound soothes my soul.)
Just for fun, I came up with an alternative hair color label–#21 Luscious Ganache–in 3 seconds.
I tore open the box, following only the directions in French so Crème au Chocolat would top my head. Yum! Finally, my French major paid off. My dad unloaded a chunk of change in tuition so I could read the feel-good-Gallic-hair-dye directions in a $5 box on the lowest supermarket shelf.
Hélas! (Alas!). The grays stubbornly dug in despite the dye job.
I am heading back to the mall salon to the adorable neo-punk hair designer who will mix up a no-name pretty color and tell me I have no wrinkles even under the hottest fluorescent lights. She will get a good tip every time.
If my hair goes Luscious Ganache Punk next month, I will post a Grande headshot of 12 million pixels for your viewing pleasure.
You made me remember that I love using the Behr paint color site to come up with cool ways to describe colors in my work: http://www.behr.com/consumer/colors/paint It’a a fun interactive site. And the fact that your cat box is a medium brown…wow…sure didn’t need to know that! Maybe take a scooper and clean it out! 🙂
Your photo of Mabel Normand sparked a memory. My father, a publicist, accompanied her to England for a tour . He also did publicity for the Keystone Kops. I enjoyed your article on hair colors, When I was in my twenties, I decided to go from brunette to blonde one day, using, not dye, but a powder-like solution. That night,I had a date with my boyfriend, who never even noticed!
What a great memory! I love the connection to Mabel Normand. Given your boyfriend’s inattention, then I am not sure that blondes have more fun. As a brunette, however, I will never know.
there is no such thing as an unattractive woman,,,
Medium Brown beats out the fruit salad that I usually find in stores. Honey peach — is that blond or red? I don’t even want to contemplate what Warm Eggplant might be.
Haha. I think honey-peach is a catchall so one can sell it to 50 shades of blond/red-haired people. Aubergine Riche=purple on medium black?
Very entertaining post. 50 shades of laughter! I loved how you pasted in the pictures.