BoomerGirl Diary

I am not a natural redhead. Granted, after 20 something years of being one, I probably could claim that status, and would happily. Despite what anyone would say, I would be hard pressed to change my hair color. Unless, of course it was an accident.

I live in Texas, the land of blondes. In the 18 months that I have been in

Austin, I have searched high and low to find someone who understands a level 8, light copper red that works with my high percentage of grey that I will not disclose here. I have even brought my own color formula to salons, called the distributor of the hair color I make to get recommendations, all with little success. And while I have come close to recreating the hair color I love and have had for years, the exact shade seems to elude me.

When I went to try someone new last week, I prepared myself mentally and my “this is color I want … can we look at the swatches together?” speech. The stylist was very patient and kind, and after my agonizing over all the reds in the book, we agreed upon a formula that we both thought would work. As this was my first visit to her, we decided to use semi-permanent color.

Good thing we did.

Fast forward 45 minutes later. Can you say "we should have performed a strand test?" My hair was much, much darker red with brown tones. I immediately cringed. So did the stylist. But I am not a patient person when it comes to getting my hair done, and even though the stylist offered to correct it right then and there, my patience time limit of one hour had already expired.

“Just dry it, please.” I said. “It will fade, right?”

The stylist assured me it would, and suggested that I use dishwashing soap to speed up the process.

“Great,” I thought. “Dawn or Joy?”

The odd thing though, is that I while I am slightly uncomfortable with my new darker hair, as I think it makes me look like I am trying to hard to look young, I have received many compliments my new hair color.

“It brings out the color of your eyes,” “it really works with your skin tone, or, my favorite one, ”I like that you went darker for fall.”

Sheepishly, I smile and say thank you, all the while trying to secretly figure out the best and least expensive to get back to my lighter hair, gearing up for the next round of grey coverage and who will I visit next in search of the perfect red hair. In the end, it reconfirms why I love makeup, and the fact that I am glad I am not a hairdresser … at least in my job, if you don’t like a color that you put on your face, you get to wash it off and start over with very little hassle.