The title of my column is taken from an advertisement floated in the newspapers (in Great Britain?) at the time of World War I. It was for Premier Vinolia Soap . . . A revolutionary-cultural shift was taking place in the west. Men were fighting at the frontlines while women took over the jobs of mailmen, tram drivers, factory workers, bomb makers . . . the war attempted to uphold the gender norms somewhat by alluring women towards femininity––rouge, talcum powder and lipstick to drown the worn-out look of fatigue in their efforts to keep the normal world rolling. The patriarchal society tried to define a woman’s public appearance. . .
"Does your reflection give you quite the same satisfaction it gave you in 1914?" asked the 1916 advertisement by the legendary American cosmetic entrepreneur, Helena Rubenstein. And there was no stopping . . . lipstick, blusher, foundation, kohl and mascara became the integral part of a modern woman’s life style along with her smartness, integrity, confidence and desire for independence––financial, emotional.
Before WWII, women of questionable reputation made use of make-up in the western culture. During WWII, looking beautiful became a patriotic duty for women.
In Asia, Japanese women used white face powder, painted their lips red. It is rumored that the white face powder was discovered by a Buddhist priest. After WWII, Japanese make-up world was influenced by the west, especially by American movies and magazines.
Women in South Asia and in the middle East used Kohl or Kajol from the ancient times to darken their eyes. Beauty products were extracted from nature––henna, turmeric, saffron, sandalwood, herbs. Beetle leaves, with nuts and lime were chewed by women in the Indian sub-continent to color their lips red. The history of evolution of cosmetics is immensely interesting . . .
The Taliban condemned beauty-salons and women’s freedom to use cosmetics in Afghanistan. The male dominated society at large denounced salons even after the Taliban was ousted. Beauty-salons were considered immoral and came under constant attacks. In Kabul, a few somehow operated defying the taboo, emboldened by the presence of the international security assistance forces (ISAF). The salons’ sign boards daringly displayed paintings of women’s faces.
In 2007, during my first weeks in Herat, I was trying to learn fast––the culture, political environment, security threats and programming challenges. A series of meetings were organized with top government officials for my introduction. In spite of the central government control, the provinces enjoyed some degrees of autonomy.
I was charmed by the Head of Women’s Department (HDW)––a beautiful, intelligent woman in her late 20s. She wore stylish-fitting pants over a long, full sleeved silk top. Her head was covered in a tasteful vibrant silk scarf. We had similar interests––ensuring girls’ and women’s empowerment through effective investment in education, health and protection of their fundamental rights. We also talked about life in general for women in Herat. I brought up the issue of beauty-salons.
“Here we don’t openly run salons as in Kabul due to threats. Women visit them quietly. My salon is close by. I can take you,” she said. I agreed instantly. It was an opportunity of a life time.
I followed her car in the UNICEF land cruiser.
The salon looked like a residential quarter; a bit rundown. There was no signboard. We went in. HDW took off her scarf––her beautiful hair jumped out. Hamida, the owner was the beautician and hair-designer. She was smoking sheesha with her three customers in a windowless room, dimly lighted due to poor voltage. The women were surprised––it was rare for a foreign woman to visit this place. They wanted me to be served first though I protested and wanted to wait.
La Prensa Latina bilingual media, December 22, 2021
Hamida showed me samples of hair dyes––manufactured in Iran. With HDW’s help I chose the dark burgundy shade. The total charge was 20 USD. I sat patiently for the color to sink in after Hamida finished with me. We chatted while she attended her next customer.
Hamida provided mainly hair designing and coloring, wedding make-up, manicure and pedicure services. She had one assistant.
“Our women like strong make-up, Naazhat,” she informed.
“But they can’t wear make-up in public, right?” I asked.
“You should attend our weddings, children’s birthday parties. Women celebrate separately. Kids can’t recognize their own moms after they put on make-up.” We all laughed. The customers kept giggling and whispering.
“They’re saying the husband’s 2nd and 3rd marriages are also occasions for wearing make-up.” There was more harmless laughter.
The salon didn’t have running water––Hamida washed my hair with a jug of cold water and wrapped it with a plastic bag.
“Sorry, we have water problem. Wash it well at home.” She was apologetic. I gave her extra 30$ as tips.
“Come again,” she smiled but knew I wouldn’t be back, ever.
I somehow wore the head-scarf over my wet hair. Our driver was surprised, didn’t comment.
We reached the guest house safely.
(Reference: Bustle Women’s Magazine, 2017)
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