Growing up I was a brunette. I won't deny that often I fancied being a blonde. I even daydreamed going on a cross country motorcycle trip, dressed in leather with a buff companion. My unwritten bucket list placed it at, 'strongly attempt this'.
As is the case those hairs change colors around the mid forties. It doesn't take long for the white to overtake the colored tresses. Clairol became a trusted friend ala reddish, silver and golden highlights. After noticing that blondes not only have more fun, but less gray. My hairdresser recommended blonde highlights. Next I suggested she keep adding more to camoflauge the white roots.
Pretty soon I was officially a blonde and even sometimes acted like one. Several people commented they liked it. My do-it-yourself gave way to the professional touch. People that haven't seen me for awhile, seem a bit surprised or make a comment. 
This is my solution to the old lady white skunkish stripe and I feel years younger, too. You decide if blonde, brown or inbetween is better. 
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