Grey hair is the new chique

I stopped dyeing my hair a couple of months ago. After years of natural and unnatural shades of red, purple, black and browns, I couldn’t remember my own colour. I did notice the actual me had a lot of grey above the ears and I was curious to what was underneath decades of dye. It’s quite a step, as any one will tell you, to live through that “growing out phase”, where you look like “a pheasant” (thanks Sarah!) or  a ferret. I had my hair cut really short and  I like the grey spikey me. And apparently, it’s quite the trend. This afternoon I was told by someone who knows fashion, that grey hair is all the rage “in the Parisian streets”. Hilarious. The lady who said this used to write a lot about fashion, so perhaps she really is in the know and I am really an early adopter.

Lost people found

Almost twenty years since I’d seen my cousin P. That was basically the last family funeral we had. Since we have practically ran out of relatives, we have to find new ways to meet up. Being 16 years older, I was always much in awe of P., who seemed to have a party life. That hasn’t changed. We drank beer, gossiped about our aunts and uncles and listened to his mates making excellent music @DeParade. Blood is thicker than water, as they say, and it was like meeting an old friend.

Or a new friend, which is what the happy lady at the table next to me thought. She was my long lost hairdresser, whose colleague f*** up my hair. Her opening sentence was: “Is that the man?” pointing at P. She has an @ of her own and both were much discussed during hair sessions. I was surprised and a bit flattered she remembered. I put her right, told her I missed her and she gave me her mobile number.

A miraculous evening alltogether, to be reunited with a long lost cousin and a hairdresser. An evening that also incluced a gorgeous young man recognising my perfume, a lost cyclist telling me I was a charming lady after giving him directions and a bloody great full moon.