It’s an early-summer afternoon when I arrive at hair colorist Lena Ott’s Suite Caroline studio in SoHo, practically guarding my oily, mousy-brown head. In a few hours my hair will be red, and there will be no turning back. (Other Lena, as I take to calling her, assures me it’s a punishing color to remove, as challenging to banish as it is to get right.) I worry about how I’ll feel—bewitched, beguiled, or bewigged?
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