They invented Miss Clairol with women like Holly Petreaus in mind.
Nothing screams middle-aged faster than a head of gray, which is why any time I see a picture of Holly there’s a twinge of pity similar to what I feel when I see an old black dog with a snowy face hobbling along.
I have no doubt that Holly was a good, dutiful wife, and it was because of her love and support that her husband flew up the ranks. But with that boxy, gray bob – and did she have to compound matters by adding bangs? – she clearly underestimated the importance of a good dye job.
This is not to imply that being well coiffed prevents infidelity. Silda Spitzer and Eli Nordegren can tell you that. (Dina McGreevey doesn’t count.) But it will keep you from being the target of a Saturday Night Live skit.
If the four-star general’s wife were my BFF, I’d staged an intervention and tell her the truth: You’re no Richard Gere or Anderson Cooper, Hol.
I then check her into a good Madison Avenue hair salon.