The wig isn’t bad, there’s nothing wrong with it, but it looks like a wig. No, this is impossible, much better to wear a headscarf or a woolly hat. The woman takes a third box and produces one of her latest pieces, made with real hair, she notes. A rare and expensive model, but some women feel it’s worth spending the money. Sarah stares at the wig in surprise. The hair is exactly the same colour as her own. It is long, silky, and incredibly soft and thick. Indian hair, the woman tells her. It’s treated, discoloured and dyed in Italy – at a family workshop in Sicily, actually. Then the strands are attached, one by one, onto a tulle cap, using the hand-tied braiding technique, she explains. It takes longer, but it’s much stronger than a crochet wig. Eighty hours of work, around 150,000 individual hairs. This a very fine, rare piece. Truly a belle ouvrage, as we say in the trade, she adds proudly.

She helps Sarah to position the wig – always from front to back, it might seem a little tricky at first, but you’ll soon get used to it, she says, you won’t even need a mirror after a while. Of course, she can have it re-styled to her taste, in a hair salon. Upkeep is simple, just shampoo and rinse, like your own hair.

Sarah lifts her chin and looks at herself in the mirror: a new woman stares back at her, a woman who looks just like her, yet is someone different at the same time. It’s a strange feeling. She recognizes her features, her pale skin, the dark shadows under her eyes. That’s me, she thinks. Yes, it’s really her. She touches the strands of hair, arranges them, models them, pushes them into shape: she isn’t trying to make them her own, exactly, but to tame them. The hair shows no resistance. It is compliant, generous, it allows itself to be tamed. Slowly, it falls into place, framing her features. Sarah smooths it, strokes it, brushes it, surprised to find it so cooperative. She feels almost grateful to it. Imperceptibly, a stranger’s hair is becoming her own, it matches her look, her silhouette, her features.