Frankly, I’ve lost sleep over this question. Until the pandemic hit, I spent way too many hours of my life in a salon chair with my head full of tinfoil looking like a scientific experiment gone awry. I resented the time and the money spent on the process – and the double standards for women and men.

And then, hallelujah, the pandemic, the lockdowns, the new working-from-home activewear vibe, seemed to set me free. As my gray roots sprouted and a distinct line between old color and new growth emerged, I determined that I was done with the color and the fake, that authenticity was the new me. I decided I was ready to face the truth of aging, the truth of me. No longer would I be beholden to the pernicious influence of the beauty industry.

But by the end of the pandemic, the world sprang to life again and I didn’t. Living alone and working from home as I do now as a freelance writer, I’d become more reclusive, my activewear was faded and shabby, my wrinkles had deepened and my hair … well, I could see my hairdresser’s raised eyebrows when I went for my six-monthly cuts (I know, I know, just call me Rapunzel) and turned down his suggestions that I might get some color. Things were slipping and I knew it. But still, I was determined. I would not again color my hair.

I was encouraged and rejoiced every time I came across galleries of celebrities embracing their grey hair – the fabulous Helen Mirren, the divine Andie MacDowell.

I appointed Pamela Anderson as my official new idol when she turned up for Paris fashion week shows in early October wearing minimal makeup. “The natural beauty revolution has officially begun,” declared the proudly grey-haired Jamie Lee Curtis of Anderson’s “act of courage and rebellion”. And when the very gray, 88-year-old English actor Dame Maggie Smith was revealed to be one of the new faces of LOEWE’s spring/summer 2024 pre-collection campaign, I felt the world spin wildly on its axis; perhaps finally the hoopla around the philosophy of pro-aging would amount to something, I thought.

A few things happened to weaken my resolve. I applied for a job and was interviewed by a guy young enough to be my son. I didn’t get the job. A few days later, over dinner with an old colleague, I complained about the challenges of finding full-time employment in mid-life. She was straight to the point: you’ve got to color your hair if you want a serious job. It’s a superficial world and you’re going to be facing younger hiring managers, she said.

For days I agonized over the issue. There was a matter of principal at stake; my value as a person, an employee, should not be defined by my appearance. It was 2023, not 1953. But was I shooting myself in the foot with my attitude?

One morning a couple of weeks ago, slapping cheap moisturizer on and cleaning my teeth – my half-hearted regular “beauty routine”, I looked at myself in the mirror, really looked at myself in the mirror. Yes, I saw my grey hair and the line still remaining between it and the old color.

But I saw something else too. I saw the face of defeat. I saw that not only had I abandoned coloring my hair but I’d actually abandoned caring for myself properly. The issue of the color of my hair was a mere distraction to the main issue. The mirror revealed a bigger picture: I looked tired and generally gray. I didn’t need a hair colorist to diagnose the problem: I wasn’t eating properly, I was drinking too much, I was spending too many hours at my desk, I wasn’t putting enough effort into my gym workouts.

The mirror revealed that what was really needed wasn’t a trip to the salon but a wider injection of self-love. A head full of chemical color won’t get me – or you – a job if your spirits are low and your self-care is minimal.

So, I’ve made a resolution, I’m calling it my Glow Plan, and I’m not waiting for the New Year to activate it. I know what to do, we all know what to do: less sugar, less alcohol, less desk time, more vegetables, more leafy greens, more water, more time in nature, more exercise and maybe even a little meditation … straightforward steps towards a more glowing me and you.

Oh, and there’s something else too: I told my hairdresser that I knew I didn’t need to color my hair to get a job or be my best self, but I was prepared to make a compromise. “I know just the thing for you,” he said. “Have you heard of balayage?” I have now – and I couldn’t be happier with my new head of hair. I even feel I’ve got a bit of my glow back.

Stephanie Wood is a Sydney writer and author. Find her on Instagram or subscribe to her weekly newsletter.

Photos: Shutterstock