Soon after arriving in Ankara, I realized that I was in desperate need of a haircut. I swear, stress just makes my hair go fro and knotty! I had no idea where to go, so I decided to ask my cousin Ebru for a recommendation...
"Well, what do you want to have done? I go to this guy in Kizilay if I want my hair straightened. And then there's this other guy in YuzYil who does my perms. For a cut or curl I go to a different guy in Kizilay. And then to get it washed or blown-out there's a fellow in Bahcelievler."
So, that was an incredibly overwhelming answer. I nodded, thanked her, and promptly changed the subject.
Now, before I continue, let me veer off for just a moment and give a bit of background on hair in Turkey.
You see, hair is a big deal here. There are coiffures on nearly every corner of every street. Within a block of my apartment there are at least four. Within a five-minute walking radius there are approximately thirty-five hair salons.
Here's a brief "summary" of some of the options. Just look at the choices! I'm particularly intrigued by the hair "saloon" and the Medusa Kuafor...how can you not get great results from those places?!
There is no prevailing trend in hair fashion here, though recently pseudo-mullets seem to be the next big thing, but generally a wide range of styles can be seen. That being said, hair is not so much cut in a style that compliments ones looks as it is to look like a certain, specific style. Additionally, the way it looks in back seems to matter more than the way it looks in front.
No surprise, the youth culture is all about funky, cutting-edge hairdos...at least for those youths that don't wear headscarves. Hair dying is an overwhelmingly prevalent phenomenon, especially in the red and blond shades. Natural blonds or redheads are hard to come by here and are generally hybrids. Additionally, the idea of dyed hair looking natural is apparently not a particularly important concept; sometimes I think people dye their hair in a most obvious way intentionally. The reds, in particular, tend to be completely unnatural colors. But, I think having your hair dyed gets you a bit of respect so the more obvious it is, the better!
Going to the salon is also generally a pretty cheap investment--I can get a haircut for 7ytl (~5 bucks)--so people go often, sometimes every week. Oftentimes, it's just for a blow-out.
I should clarify, however, that hair is a big thing here for both women and men. There are likely just as many Erkek Kuafor [Men's Coiffure] options as there are for women. The erkek kuafor is a special place for men and has it's own culture--not unlike the old timey barbershop culture in the U.S.. Word on the street is that you can't get a closer shave than that given by a good erkek kuofor. It's incredibly painful to watch and remarkable that the results are generally blood free.sidenote: take a look at the guy on that erkek kuafor poster. recognize him? that's right, he's that guy from Real World: New Orleans. hahahaah Candas and I saw the poster when we were waiting for the bus in Beypazari. How lucky are we to have found this little gem? Thank you, Turkey, for not caring about American copyrights.
End background. Back to the story...
Now, after talking with Ebru, I thought I'd just screw it and let my hair grow out to be a natty mess. However, it got to be too much and with summer coming I knew I was gonna burn up if I didn't get it cut. So, I decided to ask my other cousin, Gizem, for her recommendations. Conveniently, we were on a walk around Bahcelievler when I thought to ask, so she was able to point out some potential places. She was a bit better than Ebru at paring things down and just giving me a place to get a haircut.
So, after all the flashy options and the hair saloons, I take Gizem's recommendation and end up at...
FON Kuafor
[feuhn; blow-out]
I walked in the first time not knowing what to expect. I went around 10 am on a Friday and ended up both waking up the owner's son who was taking a nap on the couch and interrupting the owner in the middle of his morning shave. He was nice enough, kinda freaked out by me, but said he could cut my hair in 10 minutes, after his shave...which ended up taking half-an-hour.
Fon Kuafor is a dingy little hole in the wall with four chairs and an antique cabinet set. The drawers are stuffed with hairbrushes of various sizes and hair is dampened with a spray bottle--not a place to come to have your hair washed. There's no blue disinfectant and no crazy hair products other than a basic gel and hairspray. The guy is older and uses a razor rather than scissors. Unsurprisingly, he's known for his blow-outs...which means he wears this hilarious leather holster around his waist in which he puts the hairdryer.
I was nervous. I hate getting haircuts in foreign countries because if you say one thing wrong a hair catastrophe is possible. However, I've started to realize that no matter what you tell a hairstylist, he or she will still end up doing whatever he or she wants. So, I decided to just let it go.
"I just want it a bit shorter," I said. The response was a tirade of words I mostly couldn't understand, which ended with "daha moda"--more fashionable.
That little phrase, daha moda, scared the living daylights out of me. But, what was I gonna do?! And off he went.
It started out looking fine, nothing particularly different from what I was used to, except he was not really cutting it much shorter. Then we arrived at drying point. He put on his holster, plugged in the dryer, gathered two or three different sized brushes and began.
Half-an-hour later he's done sculpting my hair and lathering it with hairspray. The front is kind of plain, but half of the back has been curled upwards to look like I have a shelf made of hair. It.was.horrendous. I guess that's daha moda for you.
I decided to go home and blow it out straight before freaking out. So, I paid, thanked, and left. I put my head down and walked as fast as I possibly could, avoiding eye contact with the other people on the street. Got home and blew it out...result? Not bad. It was long, but it wasn't the catastrophe I expected. PHEW!
A few weeks ago I decided it was time for another haircut. I go back to Fon and after waiting for an hour or so he's ready for me. I try the "just cut it shorter" bit again and receive yet another tirade of words. He keeps pointing to this picture on the wall from the 80s, a picture of a woman with a psuedo-bowl cut which is only as long as her ears. HELL NO. I had that haircut when I was eight! And the postman kept thinking I was my brother Erek because we had the same haircut. No, I was not doing that again.
I protested a bit until I realized he wasn't going to cut it that short, he was just saying something about the style. I wasn't thrilled, but he said that he had to do it... "gencsiniz! dumduz moda degil! bu daha moda olacak!" // "You are young! Straight is not fashionable! This will be more fashionable!"
Yet again, I fall for the "daha moda" trick. And yet again, I let him go.
The cutting is fine but, this time, it's waaaaaay shorter. I started getting a bit worried but tried to keep calm. Then, again, we arrived at the drying point. Out comes the holster and four or five brushes.
It takes him about fifty minutes to blow dry my hair. I honestly feel like a sculpture, like a piece of clay that he is molding. He places each hair individually , making sure it is in the exact right place, adjusting and readjusting and readjusting. It was a pretty incredible experience...
...that ended in ridiculousness once again. He did this weird swoop in the back and propped the hair near my ears forward to make some things that looked like horns sticking out of my head. He also took the shorter bangs in front and made this ridiculous shelf that popped out three or four inches from my face. Look at that...it's crazy! The pictures actually make it look significantly better than it was--trust me, it was hella awful. [I can't believe I'm actually allowing these to be seen...ugh]
So, yet again, I decide to go home and blow it out myself. This time, though, he put so much hairspray in it that it was a bit tougher. After some hard work and a few washes [it really took forever to get that hairspray out] the cut turned out to be OK, as you can perhaps tell from this more recent candid photo. I'm pleased with it. It's a good length, a new length for me...it hasn't been this short since early high school!Somehow, this whole haircutting thing has worked out. But, I gotta say, it has been quite an experience. I am glad I chose the old guy...the new kids on the block who work at the hair saloons are just way too hasty with those scissors. That being said, I've never felt so panicked in a salon! Sitting in that chair in quiet little Fon Kuafor my heart starts racing, drips of sweat pour down my face, I swear I nearly start hyperventilating! Ok, maybe that's an exaggeration...but getting your self daha modafied in Turkey is a bloody scary event!
