I don't paint the town red. But when I do go out, people always want to touch my hair. It happens every time.

Feminists were psyched that I had armpit hair.

I always wanted to be a Klingon princess. They were so pretty, and their hair was fire. My hair is Klingon, I feel like.

Actors work and slave and it is the color of your hair that can determine your fate in the end.

I had hair down to my shoulders, a beard and mustache. I was crude and rude.

I get my highlights touched up with Susan Henry at Shades in Beverly Hills. She developed hypo-allergenic hair color products with no ammonia because she's allergic to others; she's an incredible colorist. She does balayage instead of the foils, and I'll go and she will do my entire head of highlights in an hour.

When I was younger, I definitely did face anti-ginger prejudice. As a child, all teasing hurts, whether it's because you're fat or a different race or have red hair. I had enough comments from a couple of people to make it a sore point.

I fully accepted that I cannot grow facial hair, but it is quite emasculating.

I'm an only child. Mostly raised by my father outside of Saratoga, doing martial arts and snowmobiling. I wore sweaters, jeans and sneakers. I was more interested in four-wheeling in the Catskills than doing my hair and makeup at 7 A.M. before school.

I used to live in a gap jumper, tracksuit bottoms and a fake flower in my hair. Shocking.

Every president, if you watch what they look like when they come into office, you can see their hair turn white because it's such a hard job.

When I was young, all the politicians looked like ancient Latin teachers or greengrocers. They were mumbly, stumbly men with their hair blowing in their eyes, walking into trees, opening the wrong door. They had no idea how to present themselves.

At the pinnacle of great design are products so gorgeous and lust-worthy that you want to lick them: a Porsche 911, Samsung's Luxia TV, an Eames lounge chair or anything by Loro Piana.

We've done a couple of women's mags, but we tend to talk about feminism and women in the industry, which I feel more comfortable talking about. It's a more valuable discussion than, 'Oh, you're a girl in a band. What hair conditioner do you use?' I use hair conditioner, and I like talking about it. But I don't want that to be the question.

Once this old lady saw me in airport and just kept smiling at me, and after much hesitation, she came and asked me, 'Are you Ram? Can I touch your hair? Is it real?' and I happily obliged.

When I was a teenager, I was obsessed with black eyeliner all around the eye, but for someone with my kind of skin tone and hair colour, using brown is actually better than black. I've also learnt from makeup artists how to apply lipstick in the correct way: by starting with the Cupid's bow first and working your way around.

I keep my hair curly and natural because I really just wanna show who I am.

What I really wanted to know, though, was what it was like to be a geisha? Where do you sleep? What do you eat? How do you have your hair done?

I decided to start embracing and wearing my natural hair, but there was only one problem; I didn't know what to do with it or how to style it. Growing up, all I knew was my relaxed, processed hair, so I had to go through this learning phase.

I use egg whites and an olive oil-based hair mask that deep-conditions the hair and adds incredible shine.