Hmm. Are you sure about the green? I don't see a a lot of green on my travels, though many other ill-fortuned variations.
Hands up - I'm one of those. I labour under the delusion that if my hair is dyed blonde, I will be magically transported back twenty years. My son always looks at my head cynically when I return from my many recherches du temps perdu - the hairdresser's - and asks why I've paid someone to dye it even more grey.
It's delusion. But at least I'm keeping a hairdresser from the cold, hard streets. I could have taken up middle-aged shop-lifting, or doing something stalkery and weird to a neighbour. This is far more socially acceptable.