I used to be a redhead…twice.

I was born mousey brown. I was not allowed to color my hair until I was a senior in high school, and even then, it was just tinted hairspray.  Being the oldest of three kids, I was the one my parents were learning on–when to say ok and when not.  Lipstick–not until 16–mascara–the same.  Getting a bra? Oh gee.  Needless to say, I was a late bloomer.

All the popular girls had stick straight, glossy golden hair.  It wasn’t natural , but they could color their hair.  So, once on my own, I tried a lot of different shades. Looking at old photos, my kids die laughing and I don’t even recognize myself.  At least I was brave and oblivious.

The red was good, but the cut wasn’t.  Went blonde for a while, extensions too!  So did everyone else. The second red was good until the skunk stripe showed up every two weeks–geez–just when you’ve got it right,  Mother Nature steps in. (I could make a list, but I’ll spare you.)

At that point, I was desperate–too expensive and labor intensive to color that often.  I found an adventurous young hairdresser who looked like a baby chick–tufted multicolor hair, serious eye makeup, and fabulous personality.  I asked her to strip out all the color, make me brown again with a heavy frost, so the white could grow in.  Yep, I decided to make the most of my white hair and…it worked!

My mom said it was the best color I had ever been…but then, her hair was white too!  She was something…xoxo, Bren