Tania Nathan is a writer who lives and works in Finland.

When I was young everyone had the same hair colour. Black. Variations on the theme were quite monotonous: shiny black, curly black, straightened black, short black, wispy black and so on and so forth. The more adventurous among us would color their hair, but as a general rule everyone followed the black-on-black theme. It was probably easier because when there are six million people with the same colour of hair, dyeing yours fire-engine red was a sure-fire way to end up being compared to a matchstick. Or Ronald Mcdonald. Neither of which paints a very desirable mental image.

That was before I moved to Finland. Here, hair colour is taken so much for granted because it is a hair democracy in this icy little corner of the Baltic! Everyone seems to dye their hair. I once counted eight different shades of blond sitting in my favorite café. Eight! Now that’s just being greedy. It is just dazzling, this freedom to change one’s hair colour on a whim – blonde for the summer, brunette for the winter. Highlights in between for summers on the beach. How chic, you could co-ordinate your hair colour with your mood, your image, even your tan. It must be really startling for the husbands and boyfriends of these hair-savvy women, because every trip to the hairdresser could yield a completely different coiffed creature afterwards. Imagine the scenario post-hairdressers, when the formerly dark, tressed Julia saunters in a sunny blonde. I would just about expect her husband to drop his ruisleipä and gape in amazement.

Of course, it was not long after moving here that I had to start experimenting. Thanks to the very fair rates at our local vocational school’s hairdressing department, I went blonde, tried highlights, was a semi-blonde for a bit before going back to my dark roots. People had a hard time recognising me during that time, and my poor white towels started looking a little worse for wear because post-wash the chemicals would seep out and imbue the towels with a variety of interesting blotches. Blotches aside though, I once asked a Finn why everyone coloured their hair so often in this country, and her answer was simple: ‘Because we have hair the colour of the road.’ I assume that sandy-coloured hair was not desirable – hence the dye-happy ways of almost every Finn I know. Hair styling is almost as important as colour, and special hair-styling techniques as well as toe-curling priced shampoos, conditioners, waxes, sprays, waxes and pastes, are all a must. Coming from a wash-and-go attitude, this was all very eye-opening. Velcro curlers, back combing, ceramic straighteners, chemical straightening, my goodness – living in a hair democracy is hard work. I recently went blonde again, which was a four-hour process. My drained-looking hair stylist, unveiled my hair after working on me for what seemed like forever in the way that a magician pulls a rabbit out of a hat. ‘What do you think?’ she asked. ‘I don’t know,’ I replied hesitantly. ‘Could you make the colour more… road-like?