Rock the Silver

Fake hair memories

I wore my new fake hair to work last week, and I received many compliments. Most people did not know it wasn't my hair. At least that's what they said to my face! Wearing fake hair brought back some funny memories.

My mother was a huge advocate for fake hair. In fact, that's where I came up with the term wiglet. Lillian liked the Marge Simpson look, and she had a little wiglet that she wore every day to her job as a pharmacy clerk. It was my job to put it in every morning and fix it for her before I went to school. I recall lots of teasing and spraying and picking. The higher the better. On Sundays, she got added height with some sort of hat-like thing she wore to church. This is my handiwork below.

She was so disappointed I didn't go to beauty school.

I grew up in Southern California, where the nicest store at that time (that we ever went to anyway) was The Broadway. I loved going there. Shiny white marble floors. I'm certain they were real marble! Beautiful mannequins wearing gorgeous clothes we couldn't afford. I didn't care. It was the ambiance I loved. I distinctly remember a glass cabinet of fancy lace negligees upstairs toward the back of the women's department. Oh, how I fantasized about wearing one of those someday. By the time I got old enough, negligees were out and naked was in.

But downstairs, in cosmetics, was a counter where they made pony tails!  Really. They had long strands of hair in all kinds of colors, and customers would sit in the makeup chair while a woman "wove" a pony tail to match your hair. She would rake it through some kind of wire thing until it was perfectly blended and then seal it up at the end with fabric tape. I wanted one so bad I couldn't stand it.

I don't remember how or why or what it cost, but eventually I got one. You couldn't really do anything with it but make a bun, and I was quite content with that. I have a vague memory of sitting in that chair getting mine made. Now that I look at it, it was kind of a weird look for a kid. I'm thinking 4th grade?  It even looks like I am wearing a little net over it.

So, with regard to fake hair, I come by it honestly. Stylish Young Coworker was traveling last week. I told her I wore my fake hair, and that it was a huge hit. She said, "I need to see it."  And she didn't say it in one of those nice girly voices like, "Oh, I can't wait!  I'm sure it's adorable!"  This was more like, "Report to my office before anyone else gets there. It's not too late to save yourself from further embarrassment."

This doesn't sound promising, but I will wear it again and see if it passes muster with SYC.  It would have been a kindness, really, if someone had told me in the 4th grade that this was a strange look for a kid. I am counting on SYC to set me straight.

I'd like to thank the Academy

I watched most of the Academy Awards looking for signs of gray life in Hollywood. Of course, there are tons of men with gray hair, but the women are few and far between. There were a couple of spousal units out in the audience, but the Red Carpet? Not so much.

My awards ... Kathy Bates takes home the Oscar for totally rocking the silver hair, while Helen Mirren comes in second with her gray-blonde mix. Jeff Bridges' wife, Susan Geston, wins best gray hair in a supporting role with what looks to me like natural gray highlights. I don't know who that other guy is, but I thought he looked exceptionally cool!

Shopper's remorse

What a crazy weekend. I had a shopping Jones and a hair appointment on Saturday. Everything revolved around the long-awaited hair appointment. My stylist books well in advance and if you snooze, you lose. It was all supposed to work in beautiful symmetry, but I totally screwed up the shopping experience and missed my hair appointment. I managed to score a cute top before it was all over.

I was wearing my wiglet and feeling girly, so I indulged at Ann Taylor on Friday. I had brain compression from the extra hair and bought two dresses, one skirt, one jacket, a belt, two cardigans and a tee. The dresses, jacket and belt were full price, the rest on sale and they said if I applied for a credit card, I'd get 15 percent off.

I never, ever get any kind of credit card from any store. All my bills go to one VISA, and I pay that off every month. I explained this to the sales associate, who said I could use the Ann Taylor card to get points but then write a check before I leave the store, so I don't have to mess with billing. Oh, OK.

When I got home, I found a mailer in the bag announcing their huge sale started Saturday. Buy three items at full price and get 40 percent off. My head was already starting to hurt, and I was sweating like it was the SAT and a train just left Boston to meet up with another one in New York and unless I knew algebra or geometry or something, they'd crash and everyone would die. This is why I majored in journalism. 

I did the math, and I would have saved less than $20 by taking everything back for 40 percent off the full-price items versus 15 percent off everything I bought. I wasn't going to do it for the $20 but then decided it was all going back anyway. Shopper's remorse. I did a fashion show for my husband, who said it was all fine but a little boring compared to what I usually wear. Wow, you wake up one morning and find yourself living with Mr. Blackwell. 

Conveniently, there's an Ann Taylor in the same little shopping center where I get my hair done. I had plenty of time before my appointment, so I started with the return. The sales associate was lovely ... said it wouldn't be a problem ... that I'd get a credit on my Ann Taylor card. I asked if I could have it on my VISA or cash or something, and she called the manager, who said they have a policy of crediting the card you used. I'm thinking, hey, didn't I write a check? I said, well, I purchased something yesterday, I bring it back today with all the tags and all the receipts, and you're saying all I get is a store credit?

The manager said, "Call the card company. Maybe they'll do something." 

This was all handled in a mature, adult way, but I was seething. This was a fair chunk of change I would have to worry about spending at Ann Taylor, which was suddenly not as appealing. 

It was a pretty day. I sat on a bench, whipped out my iPhone and made the call. The card people were very nice and said to wait a few business days for the transaction to go through and call back. They can either send me a check or do an electronic transfer. Yea!

OK, this wasn't necessary, but I went back to Ann Taylor. The manger was floating about, folding, refolding. I said, excuse me, I was here a little while ago, and we had this discussion about my return? You were not helpful. In fact, you couldn't have been less interested in helping me. I just wanted you to know there is a process for recovering the cash in a case like this, and it would be nice if you told customers how it works.

First, she denied that she was anything but pleasant, then she said, "Well, that's what I told you to do." I explained there's a difference between saying, hey loser, this is between you and the credit card company and pleasantly outlining a customer's options. I said, I'm telling you this so the next person gets better treatment. She managed to say thank you, and I scooted out of there for my hair appointment. 

Me: Hi, I'm Donna. I have an appointment at 2:15.

Tressy: Uh, we had you for 1:15?

Me: Noooooooo! I confirmed! I confirmed!  

Tressy: Would you like to reschedule?

Me: NO! I need a haircut!

Tressy: I'm sorry, but she's completely booked.

Me: A bang trim? Please? I'm desperate.

It was my mistake, but they worked me in for a bang trim. And it's not that I'm not grateful or anything, but they do look a little Buster Brown to me. Really, they're fine. I felt much better and made one last stop at White House Black Market, where I got the sweater jacket and cami as modeled in the photo. I like this outfit a lot and Mr. Blackwell approved, but whew, that was a long and winding road. 

Gone girly

I went shopping today and stumbled upon these little hair things at one of the kiosks in the mall, and they actually had silver! I bought one for $29 and immediately came home to try it out. I just love it!  I went back out to do some more wandering around, and a woman at Neiman's said she loved my hair. I said, thanks, I just bought it!!! I think it's fun and cool -- what do you think? Just for kicks or would you wear it to work?

The long and short of it

I was never a believer in long gray hair, but I'm liking it more and more. I mean, you don't want to end up looking like some kind of backwoods vigilante with stringy gray hair down to her butt (such as one might see in the parking lot at some discount retailers). That is not the look we are going for.

But there's a chic and sort of soft ethereal style for silver hair that comes with at least some length and subdued makeup. As in like not red lipstick. Here's Jane Alexander before (May 2009) and after (January 2010). She's a beautiful woman either way, but I prefer it long. What do you think?

Blog envy

I've been reading some very nice style blogs, and I realize now more than ever that Rock the Silver® is anything but a style blog. I mean, really, the fake snake clutch/wallet shouldn't have been your first clue. I don't know what I am doing at all.

I only know I am getting older by the minute and want to BE my best and LOOK my best, and I thought I'd write about it (in case you are wanting the same). And maybe nobody else is encouraging you to race through midlife with style and authenticity. If not me, then who? Oh yeah, before I forget, I'd like to do it all with cool gray hair.

So, consider yourself warned: don't come here for serious fashion advice. You can come here from time to time and watch me play dress up, and I'm hopeful my attempts might inspire you to try something new ... to not limit yourself to baggy and black.  The rest of the time I am probably talking about hair, health, fitness or some other silly thing that seems to get harder with age.

I don't mind putting myself out there for the good of the cause. I think of it as reality TV only on a blog. Some crazy silver-haired chick has to do it. But I feel sad for those of you who really are struggling to find a fashionable look. I don't think I'm helping. Today, I offer the gift of links. These sites are lovely and sophisticated, and I think you will enjoy checking them out:

Privilege

Trying to Look Fab in your Forties

A Femme d'un Certain Age

Inside Out Style

Corpette

Be sure to come back when you're ready to hear from the whack job with silver hair who was raised by wolves and can't tell the difference between real diamonds and fake diamonds or $70 eyebrows and $20 eyebrows. We'll have fun trying to figure it all out.

Cougars for Tiger

Hey Donna,

You’ve been on my mind ever since the Tiger Woods scandal broke. I couldn’t help remembering what a fine specimen you said he was in person ...

*****************************************************************

Hi Donna,

I hope all has been well with you, these many, many months since we’ve communicated! Naturally, I thought of you when Tiger’s adventurous escapades came out in the open, and was waiting to read that you, too, had had your wish come true ;-)

 

A bit of correspondence from my friends yesterday. It takes a scandal to bring them back.

They know I am a Tiger Woods fan. Let's be clear: I admire him as a golfer, nothing more. I was thrilled to see him in person at the Wachovia Championship one year. They claim I once said I would pay $100 to see a picture of Tiger Woods naked. I will not confirm or deny such ridiculous accusations.

I will acknowledge he is not looking so good as a decent human being these days. Even with the apology. Everybody is mad at him, including me. I mean, jeez, there was practically a sign-up list at IHOP, and he couldn't hook up with even one silver-haired hottie?

Not me, of course. I wouldn't even entertain such a thought, I'm just saying. Imagine what it might have done for our cause. Cougars gone gray! Wouldn't that be something?

A tale of two stars

Helen Mirren, age 65, is without doubt classy and gorgeous. As far as the hair goes, I can never tell ... sometimes she looks more blonde and other times more silver ... but whatever combo she's got going on, I love it! She looks natural and fabulous.

Just to compare and contrast, below is Tina Louise, who played Ginger on Gilligan's Island. Tina turned 76 last week. I mean, 76, holy cow. Gotta give the girl props for that. I really don't know what to say about it. I guess it's her choice to look however she wants, but she would not be my aging role model. What you do think, fab or sad?

The young and the silver

Young fashion models have recently started sprouting chemically induced gray hair and highlights. I've been watching the scene for awhile, wondering if it was worth writing about. Most of the dos I've seen look comical. What's the point?

It seems to me some supermodels will do about anything, and gray hair is just a new chemically induced thing, if you get my drift. I don't think it's going to make the world safe for those who are going gray the old-fashioned way. But ...

I think it's kind of cool! And maybe it in some way legitimizes gray hair. I really like how Kate Moss added silver. She looks like a blonde growing out her roots. I told you silver roots were cool! There are better close-ups of Kate's hair here. My second choice is Pixie Geldof except for the makeup.

Kate Moss

Pixie Geldof

First-class fashion advice

I hit rock bottom this week and advised a colleague not to go gray. Here's what happened.

Several of us were traveling together back to Texas after a conference in the Washington, D.C. area. We got through security and had some time to kill, so we stopped at a restaurant for a glass of wine. I was counting the number of women with gray hair. Stylish Young Coworker was with us, and she was my scout. 

SYC: Silver at 3 o'clock!

Me: Hate it.

SYC: The color is pretty.

Me: Haircut blows.

SYC: Silver incoming!

And so it went. Traveling companion #1 is in her mid-50s. She said she would like to go natural and embrace silver hair but has no style and thought it was better to keep the color. And I agreed!  I said it's a package deal. If you aren't going to commit yourself to developing a cool style, stick with the dye. It's actually the low-maintenance solution for people who aren't into fashion.

Then we got to the style question. Why don't you care about style? Well, she said, my feet are big and narrow. It's hard to find cute shoes. SYC and I are all over that one.  We'll help you find shoes. A flight attendant passed by and I said, OK, over there ... that look is fine for them, it's their uniform. This is not the look you are going for.

It's not?

This is bad. SYC asks if she has a flight attendant outfit in her wardrobe. Tell us, she demands, do you wear suits like that to work? Do you?

My good suit, she says, with a quiver in her voice.

What color?

Navy.

What color shoes?

Navy.

AHHHHHHHHH!

Then we get to the nude hose debate. As far as I am concerned, there is never a reason to wear nude hose. Ever. SYC calls them sausage casings. Nude fishnets are nice, I offer. Tights. Bare legs. Traveling companion #2 says her legs are too white for bare legs. Pale is nice, we tell her. You don't need fake tanned legs.  

I can't believe I am dishing this advice. Just a few years ago, I would have thought the flight attendant look was acceptable. In a moment of weakness, I thank the vigilantly critical SYC for mentoring me through my style journey. If not for the grace of SYC, I would be the gray-haired woman in the navy blue suit with nude hose and sensible loafers. 

They announced our flight, and we all looked at our boarding passes to see which zone we were in. I couldn't find my zone. SYC looked at my boarding pass and said, "You got upgraded to first class!" I think I screamed. Several people looked up. Oh my God! Oh my God!  I felt like I had won the lottery. And they were boarding first class already! Like right now!

Bye! 

SYC was among the last to board. I was lounging in my comfy and spacious first-class seat as she passed by struggling with her over-sized carry on. Some people just don't listen. I did the beauty queen wave, and she stopped in the aisle across from my seat. Looked me straight in the eye and said without explanation or fanfare, "I hope there's a fly in your salad."