Scarlet Fever

In the last two years I've become a bit of a hair chameleon. The thrill of the change is rather addicting - sitting there, scared like hell that you've made a mistake, but then loving the blow-dried new you once the scissors have stopped snipping and the foils have come off.

It's like the ultimate adrenaline rush for wimpy people, like me, who don't have the guts for sky diving, bungee jumping and other scary extreme sports.

I've gone from a mousey-brown, to platinum blonde, to a dark chestnut brown and then I chopped my longs locks off into a Katie Holmes-esque bob. I've tried to keep that interesting too, going from a short sharp bob with eyebrow skimming bangs (a little too helmetey for me) to a little longer, more casual, ruffled bob. In truth I could just be getting lazy - bobs are very high maintenance. So now I'm bored, once again.


The answer is me sitting in a chair at the Aveda Institute in Soho next Friday morning, to have my (now light brown) hair dyed red.

Why? In words of Vogue's Grace Coddington, herself a well-know redhead, "The great thing about red hair is that it doesn't matter how dully you dress. It's like a hat. It's the most fancy accessory you can think of".

While I wonder if anything redheaded will happen to me with my newly transformed tresses, the journalist in me knows I should be immune to the stereotypes that come with hair colour. No, I didn't have more fun as a blonde but I was taken less seriously, and I know people have funny ideas about redheads.

Redheads? Apparently they mean business. They're tough. They’re mean. They have a bad temper and are even a little mischievous and impulsive.

But whatever, now that I'm game it's just a question of what kind of redhead I want to be.

Uma Thurman as Posion Ivy in Batman red? Or Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge! red? Hmmm...