There comes a time in every woman’s life when she starts dyeing her hair. Unless she is so radical that she’s shaved it all off and become a Buddhist monk. As you grow older the temptation to shave it all off as an f-you to the fashionistas grows and grows.
I mean, what’s so great about long hair? It didn’t do Rapunzel much good. Years and years growing it on her own in a tower and then some prince comes and climbs up it and says he’s saving her, the cheek, the downright cheek.
OK, she was probably a bit bored living in that tower, but at least she didn’t have some prince tugging his whole bodyweight on her scalp.
She probably never dyed it. Can you think of the amount of dye she’d have to get through? The mind boggles. Then in that time she probably died so early that she never got to see any greys.
Anyway, I digress. The problem with caving to the temptation to look vampirically young all your life is that when your roots show through your hair looks worse and it’s increasingly obvious that you are indeed a vampire who is going to suck the souls of young children. I mean it’s always some mean old grey-haired witch in the stories.
Everyone knows that people with grey hair are witches. They’ve been cursed by God for worshipping Satan and thus are doomed to look ugly. Because only young women in towers pursued by princes are attractive. Children’s literature is very clear on this point. Granny is never sexy.