Grey Matter

The salon is where my passion would be fed by the dozens.

Fluffy yellowed, wavy snow white, metallic shinning silver curls and coils. They trusted me to transform it. I remember Mama prompting me to search and pluck when I spotted two in her Chaka Khan-esque mane. I found my first silver strand in 11th grade, it sparked joy and fascination in me. A little treasure I could seek and scrutinize after every shampoo, all mine.

With the gray embracers, Shimmer Lights was the first step.

It smelled of medicinal soap. I would work that nickel sized drop into a rich lavender tinted foam as I cleansed seasoned tresses.

The tone of certainty is what I admired.

Simplicity and pride.

Then there were the "cover ups". Henna, Begin, Indigo, and platinum or honey blonde. Oh they were sure too, and daring.

There was one "Fox" that dove into subtle wefts of superbly applied shades of turquoise an purple popped right above her ear. She appeared to have grayed early and what a way to accent what she'd accepted.

Her acceptance of herself.