Join the Gallery of Silver Sages by submitting your digital “after” photo and a short paragraph about your experience of going gray to maggie@maggiecrane.com. Be an inspiration to other women who may be on the fence about whether to “dye” or not.

Lynne Marino Born 1959

At the age of 44, I was in between jobs and had the February blues. Money was tight and I resented the fact that I had become a slave to my hair color. I went to Phoenix to visit my cousin Marcia for the weekend.  Marcia is always in ‘hair crisis’, so I never know what to expect when I see her.  I got off the plane and saw that Marcia had the best hairdo ever!  She admitted – “It’s a wig”! I’d had enough of all the time and money it took to keep coloring my hair – so I dragged her to the wig store and decided it was time to take on a new challenge. From that day forward, I wore a wig for 3 years while I grew out my gray hair.  Unfortunately, I then became a slave to the wig!  It was very hard to ‘come out’ with my gray hair, but I decided that since I was making a career transition I would use that opportunity to have my “coming out” party. Now, I am happy to be my authentic self!

I am a financial adviser.

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Sharon Walker  Born 1953

I was genetically disposed to gray early, from my mother’s side of the family. It began in my mid-20s with a little spot of silver on the side of my head and grew from there.

Because I had seen how much work, effort and expense my mother and sister have gone through dying their hair, I figured it was just a matter of time before I started dying mine.

Instead, with the support of my husband who actually liked my gray hair and a hairdresser who suggested it was too beautiful to color – I allowed my hair to gray on its own schedule. This is not to suggest there weren’t challenges along the way.

It took some fortitude on my part to withstand the urge to dye my hair during each of my 3 pregnancies. At the time I thought it might make me feel better – but am glad I never went through with it. Don’t want that toxic dye on your head when a baby is trying to grow in your belly!

Perfect strangers provided a lot of grist for the mill as well:

• Some wondered if I had my hair dyed gray at a salon? (Who would do that?)
• Some thought I was my husband’s mother. (He still chuckles over that one)
• Some even asked if I was my own children’s grandmother. (I let them think whatever they wanted. I knew the truth.)

It was all worth it. Now, in my 50s, I have total strangers say that they love my hair. Two little girls turned to their mom in the grocery store and said that I was pretty. Women often comment on how lovely my silver hair is. Recently, I was at a stop light with my window rolled down and I noticed the man in the car next to me staring.  As he pulled away he yelled “Your hair is very beautiful.“  Needless to say – he made my day!

I have found that it’s important to find a hairdresser that can support you in making your silver mane your best asset. I give my hairstylist tons of credit for the way my hair looks. I have it cut every 5 to 6 weeks – but that’s nothing compared to the thousands of hours and dollars I’ve saved by not coloring all these years. I say celebrate your authenticity by embracing what you have naturally – and enjoy the journey!

I am a real estate professional.

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Mary Susan Vaughn                  Born 1959

I started going gray when I was 25 years old.  A few gray hairs here, a few more there and soon I was coloring my hair. Initially I stayed with my natural chestnut brown, but then boldly experimented with the reds and blondes. I’ll never forget the tears after getting home from having my hair bleached and blond-ed. My hair was ruined! The texture was horrible, the bounce was gone, and I looked like I just walked out of a bad Sandra Dee movie. It took an entire day back at the salon to make me presentable once again. (Which is why, in my experience, blondes do not have more fun.) Still, I kept coloring for years.

Then one day, about a month after getting my hair colored, I took a good long look in the mirror at my ever-expanding silver skunk line. Why did I keep coloring my hair when it was obvious the silver was winning? It finally hit me that the color of my hair did not define who I was! I realized that what God gave me in the way of beauty needed first to come from within. Perhaps I had been hiding behind the hair dye?

At age 47 I did the most liberating thing I think a woman could do. Yep, I shaved my head down to 1/2 inch – cutting away all the colored hair! Surprisingly – it felt really good. I felt fresh and clean, renewed and brave and proud of my natural silver hair. My husband was in shock – for about 10 minutes – then he laughed, rubbed his hand across my buzz cut and said “You know something, you look pretty good in a buzz cut.  I like the gray too.” Still, I wore hats for 6 weeks until I could style my hair.

Now, while I still play around with different hairstyles, I never touch the dark stuff. I love my silver locks and am so pleased to be my natural self.

I am an accomplished artist, entrepreneur and blogger. I live in North Carolina with my husband and children. Among my many ventures, I teach fine art workshops, art appreciation and art history to children. You can find me at http://www.raisin-toast.com

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Karey Shane

Born 1962

I’ve never felt more beautiful, but it took me a while to feel that way. Back in the 80’s when I was at university, I saw an elegant woman eating lunch at a faculty table. Her silver hair was pulled back with a beautiful clasp and she wore a simple black turtleneck. I’d never seen a lady let her hair go gray and I thought it was stunning. While I was taking a bite of my sandwich I made a vow I would never dye my hair. But then little white hairs started coming in and growing every direction but down, so I promptly started putting on color rinses. No one had ever said anything to me about gray hair being stubborn. Little Miss Beautiful Gray-Haired Lady seemed so far away.

Ten years, an itchy scalp, and lotsa dollars later I found myself thinking about that woman who dared to wear her hair just the way it grew out: Silver. Gray. Beautiful. She carried herself with such poise. Besides, the gray was coming in so fast I couldn’t keep up with touching up the roots every two weeks.

One day I realized how much I wanted to march to the beat of my own drum. At age 44, I had nothing to cover up, nothing to hide. I decided to step back and accept my beauty in whatever shape it took, wrinkles, freckles, gray and all. It took me awhile to grow out the gray, and then, wonder of wonders the compliments started coming, mostly from husbands who would say it in front of their wives as if to say, “Hint, hint honey.”

If I were to do it over again, I would cut it short right from the start and get rid of the color, especially knowing all I have to do with my hair is get it wet, fluff it and put on a bit of hair spray in the morning. Done. As a fun aside, our neighbors just moved back after being away for a few years. They said, “You look younger than when we left!”

I live with my husband in the high western Utah desert along with 60+ racing pigeons, half a dozen laying hens and a stuffed rabbit named Jemima. We are the parents of seven children and five grand children whom we adore. I graduated with a BA in English with an emphasis in Creative Writing from the University of Utah back when my hair was dark brown. Naturally. I am also the author of “Secret Speakers and the Search for Selador’s Gate” (as K.S.R. Kingworth).

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Terri Waldorf

Born 1955

Reading Amazing Grays helped educate me about the possible negative side effects of hair dye. Before, I just ignored this suspicion and kept thinking I needed to color… in order to look younger or “better”. My underlying desire to stop coloring and Maggie’s well-researched information was just the kick I needed to make the decision to go gray.

At age 53 I cut four inches of length off my hair and simply stopped coloring. My hope was that people would notice the cut, and not the color! Since I was already a dusty blonde, the gray was not a stark contrast.  It turned out to be a fairly painless process. My husband was very supportive about my going gray – it was actually the short haircut that he objected to. Now, he loves it all.

I have no regrets! I love my color and I love my shorter hair. I am happy to just spend a half hour getting it cut, instead of half my day getting it colored – and half my paycheck! Most surprising to me is my natural color – soft silver gray that almost looks frosted. To those of you who are sitting on the fence – I say, “go for it!” Read Maggie’s book for some ideas on how (and why) to proceed, and then wait for your Silver Sage to emerge. It’s worth it.

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Alyce Barry   Born 1951

I noticed my first gray hairs while I was in my early twenties. I wondered if the gray hairs had appeared as a result of a major trauma I had suffered the previous year. I later learned that three of my four grandparents were gray by the age of 40, so it may have been pre-ordained. As my hair gradually turned from dark brown to salt-and-pepper, I enjoyed my more mature look. Not until my early forties, when the gray took over, did I become concerned about looking older. I began coloring my hair and was encouraged by the fact that my husband and daughter liked the effect.

I, however, never liked using the chemicals and often wondered how toxic they were. At 44, I had a midlife crisis of sorts and began making some changes in my life. Over the next 7 years I became a trained group facilitator, which challenged me to go within and reconnect with my own inner wisdom. One day, while looking at myself in the mirror, it seemed to me that a “wise woman” was getting ready to emerge. To facilitate that process, I stopped coloring my hair. When my natural color finally grew in, it was entirely gray. It took a while to get used to my gray hair and to learn how to care for it properly. Soon, friends started complimenting me on my silver hair. Though I suspect my hair might make me look a few years older than I really am, I’m very happy with it. The wise woman within wouldn’t have it any other way.

Alyce Barry is a Shadow Work facilitator in Longmont, Colorado, and the bestselling author of “Practically Shameless.” Learn more at www.AlyceBarry.com.

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Barbara Lipe

Born 1947

I began to see gray hairs springing out of my bangs when I was in my late twenties, but paid no attention until a teacher colleague pointed out that he liked the “gray thing” happening to my hair. I yanked those wiry hairs right out.

By the time my only child was born, I was in my mid-thirties. More gray graced my hair. I did look older, probably more from lack of sleep than hair color. But I knew my mirror wasn’t lying when we took our son for a family photo. The photographer – no spring chicken herself – observed that she was having more and more people bring their grandchildren in for group shots.

After that, I began to chase the fountain of youth through hair coloring. I underwent streaking, foiling, and chunking to hide the gray. Finally I graduated to all-over color. At times, my hair turned out decidedly yellow-orange. Once it even had strong undertones of green, but most of the time the hairdresser managed a soft brown with blonde highlights that pleased me. I really didn’t know how much gray I had. That was until once when I waited too long for a touch up. One evening as I pulled my hair back with a headband and saw all the silver roots – my grandmother’s face appeared in my mirror! I quickly made an appointment to color those roots.

As my gray hair began to resist color, that defiance sent a message. I started noticing women much older than myself who colored their hair. Platinum blonde, brick red, flat black and burgundy look shocking and somehow sad against aged skin. Several colleagues had “gone natural,” and I began to see mature models, who had done the same. They smiled, full of sophistication and good health, while they danced all night or hiked the Andes.

At my next hair appointment, I announced I was ready to go gray. Everyone froze, sucked in their breath and then exploded, “Why would you want to do that? You’re too young. You’ll look old!”

In the face of their opposition, I had my roots done once more, paid my bill and left the salon, knowing I would not return. I was saddened by the prospect of not seeing these women again, shocked by the vehemence of their response, and determined to find someone who would help rather than try to talk me out of what I wanted.

I found him in Paul, a young stylist. Wisely, I told everyone I knew about my plan as a hedge against backing out.

When the big day arrived, I showed everyone the style I wanted in a cover shot of Jamie Lee Curtis. They mumbled, “Mmm, I don’t know,” or “You don’t have her face.” The worst comment was, “I hesitate to point this out, but she is a bit younger than you.”

Undaunted, I arrived for my hair appointment that evening. Paul pulled my hair this way and that, and said, “You can handle this. It’ll look great.”

Each stroke of the razor left me feeling younger somehow. When he was done, I saw me in the mirror – not my grandmother. My hair was close-cropped, but funky –silver at the fringe, steel grey on the crown.

“Is this the effect of leftover color?” I asked Paul.

“No, Baby,” he smiled, “that’s all you.”

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Eileen Bennett

Born 1951

My hair was controlling my life – and hairdressers were controlling my hair. Every three weeks I spent several hours at the salon, trying to look “natural.” To maintain the look, I tried to avoid the sun, the beach and swimming. I washed my hair as little as possible and often wore a hat to protect the color.

My hair looked great the first week after having it colored. After that, it would start fading and my silver roots would start showing – what a joke! There had to be a better way. Periodically, I would get one of those new shades mixed in “to jazz up my face”, like that burgundy tint added to brown or a nice red touch. Ugh! They were so un-natural and added a harshness that made me look more comical that youthful. Who was I trying to kid?

I was turning fifty and felt good – except for all the hassles with my hair.

While on vacation, I noticed two strikingly attractive women with silver hair. They exemplified refinement, vitality, good health and confidence. The color of their hair in no way diminished the youthfulness of their healthy appearance. I was impressed, and so was my husband. This was the look I wanted.

With these women in mind I decided to go silver. It took several tries before I found a color specialist that would see me through the transition. My regular stylist was not supportive, saying that gray was usually not attractive and that most women were not happy with their natural color. How wrong she was.

First, my new colorist removed as much of the artificial color she could from my brown hair. Then she added back a lighter shade. For the first time in my life I was a blond! I stayed blond for the next year, gradually going from a full head of color to just streaking it as the silver grew in. Because I wear my hair long, it took about 18 months to complete the process.

I love my hair! My natural color is not only becoming, it is healthier and shiner that my overly conditioned colored hair ever was. Experts told me that my hair would be coarse and dull when it grew in. Not so! My silver hair is like silk and I’ve been able to toss out my expensive hair products.

There seems to be a “club” of women who have allowed their silver to emerge. Our club does not reflect the stereotypical gray haired grandmother. When we make eye contact, we recognize a kindred spirit; someone who had confidently accepted her maturity and embraces being a proud, vital, attractive active women. Being young is a state of mind, not a look. I am as young as I feel, and, as ironic as it sounds, silver hair has made me feel younger than I did when I spent so much time trying to cover it up.

I have a degree in chemistry and worked as research chemist and a regulatory analyst. I am married and have two children. I love to travel and consider my life an adventure.

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Sue Devine

Born 1941

My mother died at age 55. Her hair was a mousy brown streaked with gray, and even though she colored it, it never looked quite right. To me, she looked old. My grandmother, on the other hand, died at 99. She never colored her hair and allowed it to gray naturally. She was a beautiful person and her appearance seemed timeless. I wanted to be like her, but my fear of looking “old” was stronger.

I started seeing my first strands of gray at 25. Not wanting to look “old” like my mother, I had my hair highlighted with a light-blond color. It backfired – in spite of the cost and effort – people now asked me if I was going gray prematurely. I then experimented with at-home shampoo dyes (which left telltale halos of color on my forehead) and finally succumbed to having the color applied at a salon.

In my fifties, I softened the color and had my hair highlighted. Shortly before I turned 60, my stylist suggested that I go natural, saying that brunettes often have beautiful silver hair. The fact that I was paying her a small fortune to color my hair every six weeks made my decision even easier.

I decided to go cold turkey. My hair was multi-colored until the natural color grew long enough for my stylist to give me a very short haircut. I am very happy with my decision. My hair grew in a radiant silver color and I often receive compliments. Every month I have it cut into an easy to manage, carefree style – which reflects how I feel – carefree!

I also had my “colors” done. I found I looked best in all the bright, spring colors, as they enhance my skin and hair color. The combination of my new wardrobe, my silver hair and the added benefit of the wisdom and acceptance that comes with age have all made me feel more authentic and comfortable in my own skin. My husband and daughters love the change in me. I actually feel younger rather than older.

I spent my career as an educator, beginning as a teacher and ending it as an elementary school principal. I married an Air Force officer and have lived all over the world. Together, we have three daughters. Recently we have made the decision to move from California to Minneapolis where we are closer to our family.

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Beth Herndobler

Born 1958

Since somewhere in my teens, when I was old enough to have power over the color of my hair, I started changing it regularly, as if it was an accessory.

My family on both sides grayed early. I first started seeing some gray in my hair in my mid-20s, but it was an entirely unremarkable event for me since I was still in the changeable-color mode. My young daughter urged me to stop coloring my hair and let the gray show, saying it made me look good. I told her that when I got tired of dying my hair I would.

Fifteen years later, the thrill was gone; I had grown very weary of the whole yucky, time-consuming, stinky, expensive, coloring mess. I loved my brother’s beautiful silver-gray hair, so I decided to see what mine looked like. To allow the gray to come in gracefully, I lightened my hair, highlighted it one last time, and cut it very short.

As the silver grew in, everyone had something to say about my hair! Perfect strangers would comment that the silver in front was beautiful. A few clearly missed the point when they asked why I didn’t get my whole head dyed that color.

My now teenaged daughter said I should start dying it again because it made me look too old. I challenged her with her youthful statement that I looked good with gray hair, only to be told that what she had really meant was that she was embarrassed that I was so much younger than all the parents of her friends, and a little gray would have improved my motherly image!

My own mother laughingly fretted that a daughter with gray hair made her seem older, and offered to help me find a natural alternative dye –- but I was done.

Today, people still comment on the color of my hair, though only my daughter has equated being old with my silver-gray hair. Most don’t think I look old enough to have a daughter her age! Guess my daughter’s childhood hopes and my mother’s worries were for naught, since no one seems to think the color of my hair reflects one way or the other upon my age!

Here’s what I’ve figured out: since gaining the power to control the color of my hair as a teen, my hair color has been, and always will be, my prerogative. It isn’t a symbol or sign of anything, it’s just the color of my hair – and I think that my natural color suits me just fine!

Beth is a Chicago public-interest attorney and single mother of two – one in and one out of the nest!

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Carla Vine

Born 1950

I started coloring my hair in my early forties. My niece was getting married and I wanted a “younger” look. Lo and behold – I received a lot of compliments, such as “you don’t look old enough to have a 20-year-old daughter.” Wow!

All was fine for awhile. Then hubby had a mid-life crisis. After 28 years of marriage – I was faced with a debilitating divorce. I noticed my roots were grayer than ever, but I was still only in my forties. My marriage might be over, but my life wasn’t! I kept coloring. After five years on the dating scene I met and married my current husband.

Early into the second year of our marriage, (I was 53) my new hubby suggested I stop coloring my hair to see how it would look. My older sister had gone gray the year before and she looked pretty good, so I thought – ok – I’ll try it. After about an inch or more of silver growth I decided to do what my sister had done – I cut it shorter and just allowed the silver to grow in. While most comments I received were very supportive, I sometimes felt awkward. I thought others were thinking that it was time for me to get a dye job, but I was committed to going natural.

How do I feel about it now that it’s all grown in? Well, initially – I felt old. When I looked in the mirror, I saw my grandma. I didn’t feel pretty or sexy, even though my husband assured me that I was. I grew up believing that having gray hair meant a woman was old, dried up and ready to be put out to pasture. But, I really didn’t feel like that version of “old”. My life was better than it had been in a long time. I was in a loving marriage; we were traveling, cruising, and moving toward our goal of attending a baseball game in every major league stadium in the country. Life was good!

I realized that not feeling pretty or sexy was more a reflection of my life-long struggle with low self- esteem – and really had nothing to do with the color of my hair. Having gone through the long grow out process I was not about to dye it again. It suits my active life. Honestly, I still struggle with feelings of not being good enough, but my silver hair is looking great!

I have been a kindergarten paraprofessional for 22 years. I have 2 children and 4 grandchildren. I am married to a wonderful, loving man. I collect matryoshka dolls and love to travel with my husband.

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Corinne Hazell

Born 1954 Lives in England

My first gray hair sprouted when I was in my 20’s. It was not a sight I welcomed and I looked for family members to blame. Was it great grandma’s fault? As she was totally bald, I couldn’t really blame her. (Gray beats bald any day!) My 80-year-old grandma was gray – but still sported a mahogany red mane that I suspect came from a bottle. Some other relatives had lovely silver manes so I hoped I had their genes.

In the meantime, I took to plucking the offending gray hairs. It didn’t take many years for the ‘odd one’ to become a ‘sprinkling’, just in time for highlights to become fashionable. My silver streaks actually looked like lovely highlights.

My self-esteem took a hit when I went through a divorce, and my hair seemed to go white overnight. I was unsure of who I was, and my place in the world. Then, I met a younger man – and I didn’t want to look like his mother! I settled on a beige blonde shade that suited me.

After 12 wonderful years together my lovely chap died suddenly. It was a huge shock to my system. As I processed my grief, I realized I had lived much of my life trying to please others, and I was done with that. In the months leading up to his death, I had gradually stopped coloring my hair. It wasn’t’ a conscious choice, but I felt that I needed to find the real me. At 51, I decided not to dye my hair any longer. I wasn’t ‘letting myself go,’ On the contrary it really set me free to be me! I imagine it’s like how some women must have felt when they burned their bras in the 60s – liberated!

I love the fabulous color and I want to flaunt it! This is me – white hair, wrinkles and wobbly bits –take it or leave it.

I suspect if more women broke free of the bottle they might breathe a sigh of relief. Having gray hair doesn’t mean twin-sets and perms. Get a trendy style – be free!
Aging is a state of mind. While I love my natural color – I am definitely keeping an eye on how much falls out; I am not ready to be a bald granny just yet!

I was born in London into a working class family. I moved to California for a few years, and then returned to England, working odd jobs along the way. I have two lovely daughters and currently live with my dog and tortoise.

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Barbara Resnick

Born 1946

Covering the gray pretty much controlled my life. Roots every six weeks, part line every three, full head whenever the deep brown had faded to brassy red. Arranging appointments to coordinate with special events often took a spreadsheet. Six months before my son’s wedding, I planned my color schedule so it would be perfect for that weekend. My 40th high school reunion, which fell four weeks before, caused a serious dilemma. Did I need to look flawless for the wedding album or try to look younger than those popular girls from the class of 64?

I began to dye my hair in my mid 30’s. While my mother’s hair was a gorgeous silver – I didn’t want to look as old as my mother! Once I began coloring however, I was stuck in a vicious cycle.

I often resented the time it took from my already too busy life. I worked full time, had two growing sons, a big house and a husband. I was a serious runner, long distance biker and tennis player. But somehow, I always found time to do my hair.

I thought about going gray a lot. I fantasized that I would let my hair grow out during the summer and wear a baseball cap everywhere I went. I would take an extended vacation and come home as the new me. I spoke constantly about the pros and cons of going gray with my friends. They advised against it. My otherwise loving husband was less than supportive. I asked my colorist what she could do to make the transition easier? Could my hair be dyed gray, or streaked silver? “Unfortunately”, she lamented, “the only way through is to tough it out.” I always thought that I would wait until I turned 60, but as that pivotal birthday got closer, I thought…maybe 65.

And then it just happened. Right before my 60th birthday, I made my usual three-week part line appointment – then just decided to cancel it. I had had enough. My husband was surprised at how comfortable I was walking around two-toned. I didn’t try to hide my ”work in progress”, and never expected to be so content with my new look. Each haircut is a bit shorter and my new do looks classy and sassy at the same time.
I love my silver hair! How lucky I am to have inherited this from my mother. I feel liberated and deliriously happy about my decision. I am also deliriously happy about the arrival of my first grandchild! Grandmas are getting cuter all the time.

I am an Educational Specialist for a major hospital.

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