I should begin by saying I have always wanted to be a hippie.  Ok, maybe not BE a hippie, but I certainly wanted to dress like one.  Bell bottoms, maxi skirts and peasant blouses with long hair parted down the middle with a ring of flowers on my head.  I wanted to spend my time sitting under trees reading books and talk to others about ideas. I was a child of the sixties, a teenager of the 70’s and the idea of being this flower child while singing The Age of Aquarius and Joni Mitchell songs was how I imagined myself.  

The VW Beetle was the coolest car ever and I coveted them even before I was old enough to drive.  But I was born into a lower middle class, conservative family, where my parents talked negatively about those young men who needed to get a job and a haircut.  I had one pair of bell bottoms and one maxi skirt and I felt so cool in them. And instead of driving a hip little Beetle, I rode my avocado green Sears 10 speed bike, put becoming a hippie out of my mind and went on with my life.  After all, even hippies grow out of it, right?  Or do they?

Last week we took a lovely trip to New England, and to my delight, I discovered something exciting.  I found the place where all the hippies went.  Everywhere we went were gray ponytails. From Main Street of Brattleboro Vermont to Main Street of Concord Massachusetts, there they were. They were the coolest and I wanted to be among them.  Somehow despite the gray, they had maintained their hip, youthful attitude, not dressed like at all the other AARP member tourists.  They hadn’t dyed their hair to keep looking younger, no, it was their attitude that made them seem younger and I wanted to be a part of that.  

I imagine they still distrust anyone over 30 and don’t care what people think about them, now driving Subaru Outbacks instead of that Beetle, but still cool. I can imagine that if my dad were still around, he would be talking about those old people with their ponytails and asking why they just didn’t cut them off.  There’s just something so simple and unassuming about a ponytail – it’s easy to do, take care of and gets the hair out of your face. And anytime you need to feel the wind in your hair, you just let down your ponytail.  It’s the perfect classic hairstyle with a slightly rebellious feel.

As usual, I’m a bit behind as I just fairly recently purchased my VW, but the fact that I don’t know anyone else my age locally who owns a yellow VW beetle convertible makes me feel slightly like a rebel hippie.  I still love maxi dresses and peasant blouses and recently tried to part the hair in the middle again.  I kind of liked it.  It’s an interesting dichotomy, as I don’t want to go gray because it would make me feel old, but somehow, the gray ponytail looks younger.  

I imagine that those with gray ponytails don’t judge themselves so harshly and perhaps wake up thinking about how they plan to enjoy the day, not conquer the world.  They take walks with their dogs on lovely little main streets, listening to the birds singing in the trees, grabbing coffee at the local coffeehouse.  Probably talking about what they’ve read recently and their latest volunteer efforts that support the community. It’s the kind of life I imagine for myself.  Maybe I first need to start working on my gray ponytail.