I started coloring my hair when I was 14. It began with a bottle of Sun-In, a hair dryer, and my mortified mother on the other side of the locked bathroom door pleading with me: “Go easy! A little bit at a time!” I did not go easy. I’ve never been one to play small.

No, I went strong until I’d achieved a two-tone Easter dessert situation: orange fluff on top, chocolate nest underneath. My mother cried real tears.

From there I graduated to a more sophisticated Paul...