Greta hesitates, mildly embarrassed by how much the idea appeals to her. Her displacement in New York and friendship with Iman have afforded her something like a second adolescence, all her former adult responsibilities stuck a world away. It's grated on her a little, because this wasn't what she wanted, or what she'd worked for, and it feels silly to indulge herself for no reason other than because she can.

But her job and her family are unavailable to her, at least for the moment, and refusing to enjoy herself at all would be just as silly and considerably less fun.

"It's been a few years," she admits. And she certainly hasn't had the time to do anything all that interesting with her own hair in the past several years; getting most of it up and out of the way was as far as she ever went. "But it would be fun." Provided she doesn't make a botch of it, but she doubts she will, and it's not as if there are mirrors here, anyway.