Scarlet woman

Two years ago, I was a demure brunette. But secretly I yearned to go red.

I've always been fascinated by the mystique of the redhead.

There's Rita Hayworth.

I was so in love with Rita as a child. Her song-and-dance turns in Cover Girl or You never were lovelier fascinated me. In Cover Girl she's shot in Technicolor, and you get to see just how lovely her hair looks, in thick, red curls. She was certainly beautiful, but mostly enthusiastic and energetic. I associated her with freedom and happiness.

Then came my next obsession: Franka Potente in the indie German success Lola Rennt.

Potente plays this punk small-time gangster's girlfriend, and as a twelve-year old the simultaneous discovery of techno music and bright ketchup red hair was overwhelming. I dreamed of being her. She was resourceful, stunning and different. She wasn't afraid to dress differently, the way I was. She was badass.




But I was afraid to go red for a long time. It's not an easy colour to maintain. It gets depressingly pale very fast. It's trying to the complexion. It's noticeable. And most of all, I thought I would have to be a Jessica Rabbit to pull it off. Sex on legs, if you will. I never found myself pretty: sexy was a huge leap.

So it took a great deal of confidence to go red. I started with a slightly more russet tone to my originally brown hair back in May. Then in Germany I went to a seedy hairdresser and he gave me something starker. By this time I was beyond caring what other people thought. I loved the way red made me feel. Like a woman, and not like a girl. I stopped feeling uncomfortable when people complimented me. I started enjoying dressing up, changing sartorial personalities.



Bad picture, of course. My sister helped me refresh my colour yesterday! Good job, J.

I'm proud of being a redhead. I'd like to have Rita's graceful allure, Franka's punk pride, and Jessica's sex appeal, but in the end I'm happy to be my own version of the scarlet woman.