After visiting mesmerizing Persepolis, the Vakil and Nassir al Molk mosques, and going through the experience of wearing a full chador inside the incredible shrines, there were still three hours to kill before my transfer to Isfahan and one activity that was never quite in my travel plan yet turned out more than memorable – a beauty salon treatment.

While packing my stuff for my flight to Isfahan I came upon a flyer for the hotel’s beauty salon:

I felt so accomplished to have found the perfect time-killing activity that could double as a well-deserved way to pamper myself after walking for hours under the Shiraz scorching sun. I had always wanted to try a Keratin hair treatment, and although I had been too picky to do it at home because I figured the hairdressers might ruin my hair (again), my spontaneous personality thought: what the hell, let’s just do it in Iran!

I excitedly asked the friendly hotel manager for the different treatment prices and explained that I needed to kill some time, but he looked back at me completely speechless. I had said something wrong. Maybe it was strange to ask men about hair treatments I thought? But he soon informed me “Miss, you do realize that these treatments are for MEN? It is a barber shop, only for men.” Ignorant me had figured that groom makeup had been a mistake in English. Coming from a place where men are not very vain, it was difficult to imagine that the hotel would have one beauty salon, that was only for men, where they didn’t only get their hair and beard styled but actually did vitamin and keratin hair treatments. And so, I asked the manager in disbelief “So you mean men actually do all these vitamins and keratin for their hair, and facials?! So where are the salons for women around here, they must be amazing!”

Well, suffice it to say that there were no salons for women. He looked at my headscarf while saying it as if it was a sad, yet obvious fact of life. When he saw the look of utter disappointment on my face, he decided we would make it a mission for the Barber Shop stylist to make an exception for me. We walked down to the salon and he discussed in Farsi with the stylist in what seemed an endless exchange of patiently pleading and an angry stylist refusing to admit a woman.

Thinking of the Sharia law in the country I began to feel uneasy as I did not want to engage in something illegal, and so I asked the manager what the stylist was saying, to which he replied the same answer that everyone in Iran suspiciously told me with an artificial calm smile: “Don’t worry, everything is fine”. Hmm..

Just when I was going to back out and decide to spend my three hours watching TV in Farsi in the hotel lounge, the stylist agreed to do a treatment on me. Apparently I did not need keratin since my hair was not frizzy, or vitamins since it wasn’t dry enough, and so he decided to do the longest treatment which involved five face masks. How pleasant!…I naively thought to myself.

The stylist, who did not speak English, signaled me to a little space with a sink behind a curtain, since they would have to hide me there in the men-only salon. Once there, he got his materials ready and started smearing some thick green thing all over my face except for the eye-area. I can say this was the only time during my whole trip when I took off my headscarf outside my hotel room, and it was a welcome break. When I smelled what reminded me of hair removal wax, I imagined the pain and prayed that it would be paraffin or some type of mask that could just be wiped off. The green wax now covered every centimeter of my face. And then, just when I hoped he could wipe it away, he gave me a kitchen towel (yes, not even a real tissue!) and made crying gestures while he looked at me, making sure I understood I would need it for my tears. I looked at myself in the mirror, covered in a green wax mask, and thought to myself “Oh god, what did I get myself into!” At least I figured it would be a funny story to tell my friends.

The pain I felt when he peeled off the mask little by little cannot be described, but I can say it hurt way more than any other waxing I ever did before. As I cried a little he gestured to me to please cry in silence, since I ran the risk of being discovered behind the curtain, and I guess my crying sounds were not quite manly. Great, as my entire face was being waxed I couldn’t even complain comfortably. I guess it was a tough men salon after all.

Further treatments involved a hard scrub, cream mask, aggressive steam brushing , and the famous black charcoal peel off mask for black heads. I kept saying I had sensitive skin but he didn’t really understand me. At the end of the 2.5 hour treatment my face was pore-less, smooth, soft as a baby, and of course – quite red.

The experience was as fun and terrifying for me as for the stylist, who did not have much experience working with women and with whom I communicated via body language. We agreed to take a video and pictures to immortalize our memories:

Note: look at his perfect eyebrows.

Although the hotel was not able to arrange a women’s beauty salon for me, I’m sure the ingenious Iranian women have a way to get these services, and after 10 days there I would not hesitate one second in saying that they are the real tough gender in Iran!  (and not just because of the wax)

All in all and despite the painful treatment, the stylist was funny (although he did laugh mostly at me) and friendly, which made it fun for me and gave me a chance to connect with the people of Iran in their everyday life. This is why it became one of my unexpected yet most precious trip memories. It also gave me the feeling that besides the official rules, seeing women’s hair is not so scandalizing after all.

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