My World: Going grey isn’t the end of the world...

It’s not a recent thing, it’s not something that has only started happening recently, it is not even something that has sprung up on me without any prior warning.

I’ve been going grey for pretty much as long as I can remember. Having dark brown hair pretty much leaves you with no option but to notice when the first few wiry hairs emerge, as much as you’d rather not see it when you’re 16.

But as time goes on, I think my look has matured with my personality. Like a fine wine, I have become a more flavoursome individual with age, on the inside of course.

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For many people, the first sign of grey results in a mad dash to Superdrug for the closest colour match Just For Men do, but not for me.

My relaxed approach towards my hair colour baffles some of my friends, who are yet to go through the process of getting more and more greys.

They ask continuously when I am going to cover it up and make drunken slurs such as: “I’m getting you some Just For Men for Christmas!” Hilarious.

But it honestly doesn’t bother me, not one iota.

George Clooney and Philip Schofield haven’t done too bad in life with a silver barnet have they?

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I think it adds a certain amount of refinement to a gentleman, shows a certain experience that can only come from living life and learning lessons.

I think the way it would be described at the moment is ‘Salt and pepper’, a sort of dark brown flecked with a silver shimmer in the right light.

At 23-years-old, I am the greyest out of any of my friends, not there’s that many to compete.

But the main reason I am comfortable with my transition to Clooney-ness is this, I’m lucky to have any hair at all.

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Near enough every man on both sides of my family has lost his hair, and the majority at a young age too.

One day mine will probably disappear, I don’t worry about it, I just accept it as the course of nature.

But for the time being, I’m happy with my greys.

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