The Hair Dye

By Didi Gorman

A few months back I wrote about how, during the coronavirus lockdown, I had incidentally become a hairdresser (of sorts) for my immediate family.

When my 89-year-old relative, Auntie Beth, learned about my newly-discovered skill, she immediately phoned me, eager to make an appointment.

I reminded her that my hair trimming undertakings had resulted in several of my recent victims (I mean, clients) seeking psychological therapy after I had a go at their hair; but Auntie Beth just laughed it off, putting it down to my sense of humor and reassuring me she didn’t need a haircut, only a bit of help applying the new hair dye she had just purchased.

And so I found myself in her living room the next morning, reading the instructions for the application of Henna, a plant-based hair color powder with a distinctive, rich, herbal fragrance, somewhat reminiscent of dry hay.

While I was preparing the formula, mixing the powder in a mug of hot water until a thick muddy concoction formulated at the bottom, Auntie Beth brewed us two cups of her famous loose-leaf green tea.

We then went to her room, where she positioned herself on a chair in front of her vanity, and I placed the two teacups and the mug of Henna on a nearby shelf.

She showed me how to use the tint brush, scooping up a gob of soupy Henna and applying it to one strand of hair, and then she handed me the Henna, motioned me to continue, grabbed one of the teacups and started sipping.

About half an hour later, when I was done smearing her scalp with Henna (and she was done slurping on the green tea), and just as I was placing a shower cap over her head to let the Henna set, I noticed a brown mustache developing on Auntie Beth’s upper lip.

How odd.

And how, even odder, the fact that when we took the shower cap off, her hair was the exact same color as before. (Though, admittedly, fragrant of herbs)

But the oddest thing of all, one would certainly argue, was Auntie Beth’s enthusiastic reaction when she saw her reflection in the mirror. She had never seen such a ravishing change, she said, and she felt stylish, glamorous, sassy, and twenty years younger!

“Now,” said stylish, glamorous, sassy, and twenty-years-younger-looking Auntie Beth, “the only accessory missing is a new pair of glasses, to match my new look! Will you come with me to the optometrist tomorrow?”