I blame Taylor Swift for the following sequence of events: After watching Sadie Sink in Swift’s “All Too Well” (10 Minute Version) music video, I decided to dye my hair red. I could write a thesis on that cinematic masterpiece – the lyrics that never fail to make me cry, the crackling fireplace make-outs, the gut-wrenching fight scene. But it wasn’t the chemistry or storytelling that captivated me.
It was Sink’s auburn waves – hair resembling autumn itself had chosen her as its muse. When I saw her, I saw inspiration. Maybe it was time for a new era of me… as a redhead?
To be clear, I wasn’t going through a dramatic breakup or quarter-life crisis, but I was in a place of reinvention: I had just graduated college, trading parties and class schedules for the freefall of early adulthood. My friends were scattered across zip codes, my job bored me, and I stumbled through my days like someone assembling IKEA furniture without instructions (which, by the way, I also did – twice).
In my life’s new chapter, I found it hard to connect with my identity and yearned for something – anything – to make me feel like a different version of myself.
For days after watching the video, I still couldn’t stop thinking about Sink’s hair – it highlights her features perfectly. We shared the same freckles, the same pale skin, the same eyes. I could pull this off, I thought. A quick Pinterest dive into the “Cowboy Copper” trend, and suddenly, this idea became real.
I’d never dyed my hair before. Truthfully, my relationship with my light-brown style had always been borderline traumatic. In college, it started falling out in clumps, turning my shower drain into a horror movie. Blood tests revealed my IUD was wreaking hormonal havoc, leaving my curls brittle and making them snap off at the slightest touch. I spiraled, counting the strands in my ponytail each night.
It took years to rebuild what I’d lost, but I still wasn’t satisfied with how I looked. Everyone gets highlights, I reasoned. A little color wouldn’t hurt, right?
So, I booked the appointment to go red. When I finally saw my reflection after the transformation, it wasn’t just vibrant red hair staring back at me – it was a completely different version of myself. She was edgy and confident, effortlessly cool. Red hair possesses a power all its own: It’s impossible to ignore. I couldn’t help but revel in the attention it drew.
Red hair is undeniably beautiful, and I wouldn’t discourage anyone red-curious from giving it a try. But be warned: It’s high maintenance. My colorist had cautioned me, but I underestimated just how much effort it would require. Two weeks in, the vibrant red faded into a dull, brassy orange. I returned to the salon every month, chasing that initial magic. Glosses, tinted conditioners, and treatments cost me a small fortune. With each trip, my hair became less of a source of confidence and more of a burden.
Looking back, I made a few mistakes. First, my hair simply wasn’t strong enough for the chemicals. Since the color faded so quickly and upkeep was paramount, my strands were left fragile and torn.
I also developed what I like to call “red-hair-blindness” – a self-diagnosed condition where I couldn’t see how red my hair was getting. Every time the color slightly faded, I’d panic, slathering on treatments that coated my hair in a greasy film. My shower floor was streaked with dye. My hair became a chaotic mosaic of copper, auburn, and pink hues that screamed, “DIY gone wrong.”
Eventually, I forgot what I looked like beneath it all. That’s when it hit me: No amount of dye would cover up what I didn’t want to face. The insecurities I was trying to outrun were still there, waiting.
As the novelty wore off and “bronde” came into Vogue, I wondered, Maybe it’s time to return to me, too. So, I let go. After two years, I stripped away the layers of dye, revealing the damaged hair underneath. As the red faded, I felt lighter. The disguise was gone. I began nurturing my hair back to health, rediscovering the soft, familiar brown hue and loose curls I’d once taken for granted.
I won’t lie: I felt immense frustration for re-ruining my hair after everything I had been through. But beneath that, I also felt relief: I was finally free of the constant maintenance, the battle to maintain a fleeting version of myself. Returning to my natural color felt like starting fresh, and I found joy in watching my hair become mine again.
As my hair changed, so did my life. I found the strength to leave an unhealthy relationship, rediscovered my passion for writing, and carved out a career path I truly love. Instead of relying on external changes, I began building a version of myself that felt authentic and grounded from within.
My journey with red hair taught me this: Reinvention can be confusing, especially when life is drastically shifting around you. It’s tempting to think a physical change will fix what’s broken inside. But no haircut or color can outrun the insecurities we face. Beauty doesn’t come from superficial changes. It comes from transforming within and embracing who we truly are – no dye necessary.
Olivia Tauber is a freelance writer based in New York, passionate about crafting authentic stories through personal essays and profiles. Her career began in corporate publicity at Showtime and Paramount, followed by production for “The Pivot,” an Emmy-nominated series.
