I will confess that once upon a time in Paris, urged thereto by awfully urgent friends, I did try dying--dyeing--my hair. It came out quite green. I didn't mean just with a greenish cast, like most dyed hair that doesn't have a Turkish-red cast, but a really beautiful and vivid green. Not jade, either; much more nearly a grass-green. I spent one nightmare week leaping from beauty specialist to specialist in Paris, and spending money like a drunken sailor, and in the end my hair--after periods of bright reddish-green, and purple-green, and yellow-green, and then again just plain green-- was a black blacker than any black you ever saw, with a copperish-green tint in the high lights. So I shaved it off, and wore a postiche, which is to say, wig, until my hair grew out again... I told everyone... a lovely tale about how I was lighting the gas stove, and it exploded and removed my hair; and you... are absolutely the only living mortals--save Troub and some scores of Parisian beauty experts--who have ever known the ghastly truth. I never wanted to dye my hair, in the first place, but you know what wax I am, and besides how I like to try any new thing just once. Hair is an awful nuisance, anyhow; like teeth. Every time I read one of these predictions by a "scientist" that in a few hundred years mankind will be toothless and bald, I wish I believed in reincarnation. -Rose Wilder Lane, 1930

- posted by pioneergirl at 11:00 PM