Watching the new Amazon Prime action thriller series Ride Or Die, I became fascinated by Hannah Waddingham’s hair.

In many scenes the gorgeous 52-year-old Ted Lasso actress, who portrays a fit and fierce assassin, sports a flicky blonde bob which is sometimes scraped back in a mini ponytail for high-octane action moments.

But that’s not her only hairstyle. In one scene, all glammed-up for a millionaire’s party at a Monaco mansion, her look is completely transformed by a dramatic ‘up do’: At the front, a towering quiff, sides slicked, with an edgy mohawk hairpiece running down the back.

Sometimes she’s tousled and at others groomed to within an inch of her hairline. Clearly, Hannah has a team of hair stylists tending to her tresses, but I couldn’t help but marvel at the immense range of options that could be achieved from her relatively short cut.

Could this versatility be something that ordinary women could aspire to inexpensively and without expert help?

I’ve worn my naturally curly hair at shoulder length since my teens. In fact, I’ve spent a lifetime trying to keep it as long as possible after a disastrous pixie cut when I was 12 resulted in me being repeatedly mistaken for a boy.

But unless you’re blessed with fulsome follicles (or a heavy dose of HRT) midlife hair inevitably loses its thickness, swing and body. For me, this dull diminution has been made more obvious by the exhausting quest to cover-up grey roots.

A year on Mounjaro provided the final death knell for my mane of tumbling curls.

I was thrilled to have lost two stones (dropping from 13-11 stones) over eight months, shrinking from a size 18 to a 12, and the improvements to my health and happiness have been immense. But the single downside (apart from the hefty monthly outlay) has been my hair.

For one terrifying month last September I really thought I might be going bald. Every time I shampooed, great clumps would come away in my hands and my hairline receded alarmingly, my pink scalp shining back at me in the bathroom mirror.

I rushed to Philip Kingsley in London for a private appointment with a trichologist who told me – mercifully – that I was merely experiencing a temporary ‘shedding’ called telogen effluvium (TE), and that each hair that had fallen out had already been replaced by a tiny new baby hair.

Studies have since shown that TE is extremely common in people taking GLP1 weight-loss medication, affecting up to 68 per cent of us.

It is miserable and terrifying, but it is temporary.

I stocked up on supplements to support the new hair growth and cut back my Mounjaro dose, ultimately switching to the more gentle Wegovy pill in July because I’m keen to keep a trickle of GLP1 in my system for the purported health benefits and to keep my weight on track – even if it compromises my hair.

Sure enough, those baby hairs started to emerge as crazy curls around my hairline and for the first half of this year I had to work hard to try to disguise the thick curly regrowth among the wispy strands of longer hair that had survived.

Then in June, for my 62nd birthday, I decided my best option was to cut the whole lot off into a bob.

It was a dramatic change and I hid myself away for a few days, convinced that I looked like a cross between Mrs Doubtfire and orphan Annie.

And then Hannah Waddingham appeared in the Royal Box at Wimbledon sporting her ‘Italian bob’ – a sophisticated layered look which just skimmed her jawline.

I realised her hair was a similar length to mine. Maybe, just maybe, a by-necessity midlife bob could be versatile, and perhaps even occasionally exciting too?

The answer, I discovered, could be found in clip-in hair pieces.

There’s a massive range of ponytails, buns and fringes out there – plus lots of videos showing how seemingly easy they are to use.

They won’t all break the bank, either. For the luxury of real hair, you might have to pay £50-£150 per clip-in, but there are many cheaper synthetic options available.

I was spoilt for choice: Short flicky ponytails; lush long ones Ariana Grande style; curly ‘half pony’ clip-ons, which promised to channel my inner Jennifer Lopez; tidy buns; messy buns; even ‘disco buns’ worn like mini ‘horns’ on either side of your head. And all for less than £20 a pop. In fact, one thoroughly convincing clip-in chignon is just £5.69. They all come in a wide range of colours from jet black to full grey.

They might be fake, but these hair extensions are remarkably realistic. It made me wonder why anyone my age would squander so much time and money nurturing hair long enough to sweep into a bun or ponytail when you can rock the convenience of a choppy bob and achieve instant glamourpuss status with a clip-on the price of a Meal Deal. Award-winning London hairstylist Ed James is the ambassador for the Beauty Works extensions brand, and thinks clip-ins are perfect for midlife women.

‘It’s the ultimate instant transformation, and virtually every celeb I work with has several sets they keep to hand for transforming their look,’ he tells me. ‘You can completely change your style in minutes without having to book into the salon every time the mood strikes. It’s like having a wardrobe for your hair.

‘For many of my clients it’s about not having to think about maintaining long hair all the time, and it’s about having fun and playing with your look.’

With a few social events planned for the rest of this year – a big birthday party, a hen weekend, and my son’s wedding in December – I can’t wait to start experimenting, and – hopefully – dial up the wow factor on my hair.

So how easy is it…?

I start cautiously with the simplest and possibly most addictive option – the messy bun scrunchy (£15 in 37 shades from Stranded Hair Extensions, hairextensions.co.uk). An elastic band with hair attached that makes it look like you’ve piled fistfuls of hair on top of your head, it actually couldn’t be easier.

In fact my hairdresser often wears two of these scrunchies at a time for extra volume.

Scooping my hair up on to the top of my head with both hands I secure the short tufts with a double twist of the scrunchy. Checking the back of my head in the mirror, it is a convincing replica of the relaxed ‘tie your hair up for the gym’ look I used to rely on when I had enough hair to tie up. Wrapping a second scrunchy around the first expands it to impressive beehive proportions.

Emboldened, I branch out into curly ponytails – one 30 inches of tumbling curls (£17.99 from FESHFEN on Amazon) and another, more conservative 12-inch version (£16.70 from Vegalily Beauty Supply, also via Amazon). Surely these would be perfect for a friend’s disco-themed 60th?

First, I scrape my own hair back into a band, revealing a pathetic two-inch rat’s tail. Then I pin up the straggly bits and simply clip on the long ponytail. I am immediately transformed… but into the sort of woman who might be reading tarot cards.

My husband Jon is horrified (muttering, ‘This is a glamour-themed party not comedy fancy dress – will you be taking a crystal ball too?’) and begs me to reconsider.

No problem. In a simple switch, I unclip the long pony and attach the shorter one. This is such a close match in colour and texture, even I can’t believe it’s not my own hair.

I think I look like I did in my 20s and feel younger too.

At the party, I hit the dancefloor and am inspired to spice-up some of my moves from midlife shuffling to proper party bopping – it’s so much fun when you’ve got hair to swing around! Jon seems delighted by this newly extrovert version of me. Everyone at the party is convinced the ponytail is mine, until, after a few proseccos, I cheekily clip it off. Onlookers are aghast – it’s as if I’d just unstrapped a false leg.

A few weeks later, I decide I need hair enhancement for my soon-to-be daughter-in-law’s hen weekend. This time I style it out with a ‘bun topper’ of chaotic curls (£19 from RUWISS-EU via Amazon) on the top of my head. This is a bunch of coiled curls in a variety of different blondes and ‘brondes’, fixed to a dome of mesh which I secure to my tiny sprout with hair clips.

It is a startling replica of the ‘pineapple sprout’ hairstyle I once wore for clubbing back in the 90s (when I had loads of hair of my own). The mother of the bride and I might be 30 years older than the rest of the hens, but I’m rocking my fake ‘sprout’ and she’s clipped on a fake pony tail and (in our minds anyway) we are completely convincing members of the giggling girl gang.

Again no one spots my fakery, but to be honest I wouldn’t have minded if they had.

For a more sophisticated look, hair and make-up artist Carl Stanley shows me how to tame my naturally curly hair with a session of blow drying and smoothing into a neat, low (but very short) sprout. (The expensive real hair clip-ins can be styled and curled, but, though convincing, my selection is properly synthetic and I wouldn’t trust them not to melt near a blow dryer or if I stood too close to a naked flame.)

Next, I clip on a 14-inch bouncy ponytail (£16.95 from REECHO via Amazon) and instantly assume Barbie vibes – thick, apparently healthy, hair bouncing on your shoulder really does put a spring in your step.

This is very ‘Cotswold ladies who lunch’ and I thoroughly enjoy channelling my inner Victoria Beckham with a pout and an oversized handbag for pisco sours at Soho Farmhouse.

With Carl in charge it takes two seconds to unclip the pony and attach a neat chignon (£5.69 from Happy Life XX). Now I have the perfectly demure mother-of-the-groom look in the bag ready for my son’s wedding in December.

It occurs to me that there’s always been a bit of a taboo surrounding the idea of tugging on a full wig or a topper to cover a bald patch or to disguise an area of extreme thinning, but these clip-ins are so quick and positive and life-affirming you’ve just got to shout about them.

I’m all up for expanding your hair ‘do’ repertoire at midlife rather than restricting it, and I’d seriously struggle to achieve these looks even if I was able (or could be bothered) to keep my hair long.

Now I completely understand why Hannah Waddingham chooses to keep her hair off her shoulders. It’s got nothing to do with that outdated and patronising idea that midlife women shouldn’t have long hair.

She’s able to enjoy all the simplicity of a healthy easy-wear bob, short enough to withstand the rigours of her peroxide blonde dye, but long enough for maximum versatility – and fun.

I absolutely love my new wardrobe of cheap and cheerful hair pieces. They are lined up like furry pets in a drawer in my bedroom, and when I’m going ‘out out’, I run my hands over my selection and pick one to suit my mood and the occasion.

It’s like choosing a pair of party shoes or a fabulous pair of earrings.

Like Hannah, when I want to look and feel a bit special, I simply pull open my drawer of clip-on possibilities, attach one – and style it out.