I walked down red carpets for the premiers of Algiers, fans lining the streets and calling my name. Women everywhere adopted what the newspapers called the “Lamarr look”—dark hair, often dyed, with a center part and cascading waves; symmetrical, arched eyebrows; pale skin; and full, glistening lips. The look I’d thought was so American, one cultivated at Mr. Mayer’s insistence, now became associated with the “exoticism” of Hedy Lamarr, the irony of which gave Ilona and me a good chuckle.
