Once upon a time I had an excellent colorist who I would visit periodically. It was always a big production to get to him, because I had to travel to Tulsa, which at the best of times was a seven hour drive away, and I needed to get a hotel and bring lots of spending money above and beyond the cost of the dreamy cut and color, because it meant spending a whole weekend with my mom, too. When I had the money to burn on it, it was totally worth it, for how great he made my hair look. I haven't been able to swing an appointment with him in years, so I have to take things into my own hands, literally. I can sometimes get my daughter to cut the length off my hair, but when my front layers get overlong, I trim them myself. And any time my roots grow out and the salt and pepper starts to show, I dye my hair myself. I never mastered the tools of the hairdresser trade. No brushes, combs, or squirt bottles to apply my color. I glove up and finger paint everything. So far it has created the most natural look, to my eyes.
I enjoyed being an artificial ginger for a few years, but I finally passed my saturation point on that color. The last time I dyed it, I left the product in too long, and I slipped into a clowny orange. It felt too fake. I needed to tone it down a bit. My daughter offered me a neutral blonde, but it was a demi-permanent, different brand than I have been using for years. It did absolutely nothing. I picked out my own colors today, a highlight and a mid-tone for the underneath. The change is subtle this first time out, but it's already less brassy. We'll see how it does for a few cycles.
It was the right time of year to transition from ginger to yellow. I've noticed almost all of the flowers that are thriving at this point in the year are the deep yellows. In another few weeks, the aspen grove next to my driveway will adopt the same color. I'm just camouflaging myself to match them.
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