"Eminence Grise" (by Susan Baskin, June 20) made my day. I'd been feeling quite alone with my "colorless crop," having given up "the bottle" when I retired seven years ago, mostly to eliminate the monthly chemical ritual. But wherever I go, I seem to be the exception; everyone I know colors her hair.
So it was very reaffirming to read Baskin's article. Like her, I also receive positive comments about my natural white hair from friends and strangers alike, and that has rescued me from feeling separate and apart. And I do like that attention. Best of all, my husband thinks it's beautiful. I'm convinced that age is a state of mind that is not defined by hair color.
Like my mother, I've never colored my hair. And from age 8 to 50, I preferred the shorter styles, until my son saw a woman with a long, silvery ponytail and asked me to let my hair grow. So I've just about shunned the shears ever since.
My hair now extends below my waist, most of the time in a ponytail. I have a huge collection of hair baubles, and when the occasion calls for it, I pile coils of my hair high on my head. Hardly a day passes without some stranger admiring my silver treasure.
As a screenwriter, can't Baskin find anything more interesting to write about than gray hair? Every week the magazine contains at least one article of similar unimportance.
Two years ago, at 55, I became a gray fox and experienced a range of reactions from my peers: "Horrors! Why would you ever want to have gray hair?" from some, and "Oh, if only my hair would grow in in that color" (yeah, right!) from others who considered me a brave warrior for venturing into the new world of au naturel.