The full Turkish

I feel like the hand towels they give you in aircraft - synthetic, smooth and lemon-smelling. Why is this? Read on....

So it's like this: I had a rather good haircut for £10 at this hairdressing place the other side of Stoke Newington Road, but when I went this time, there were just some kids (the owner's?) in there, cutting each other's hair for fun. So I went next door, to Pasha's, and got sat down in a chair immediately, by Pasha.

Stage 1: towel round the back of the neck, all good so far. Towel laid on the edge of the basin in front of me. Er? Gently but firmly pushed forward, so I'm now bent over the basin, kind of weirded out. Shampooing happens, but instead of gentle female hands massaging my head, it's burly blokish ones reaching round, giving a quick rub, then with palms over the ears making sure those are well lathered. Then there's a quick rinse off.

Stage 2: gently but firmly pulled back, while a spotty youth whisks an apron over my front, and Pasha gives my ears a quick clean with cotton wool, both sides. I make some witticism about a full Turkish treatment, and am looked at like I am a total newbie (which I guess is fine, because I am), and Pasha and the spotty youth ask me where I live, and have I not come here before? Pasha asks me what I'd like; this is enough left on top to ruffle about, and to tidy up the sides, with a bit of layering if poss. Spotty youth switches on foot massaging machine, which feels a lot like an orbital sander, and makes the soles of my feet feel numb after about five minutes.

Stage 3: Return to normal hairdressing routine. Pasha snips away, no conversation really, just a nice quiet haircut. I watch the telly, which is showing Turkish sitcoms; there's some tearful farewells, little sisters eavesdropping on the wrong people kissing, this sort of thing. It looked very much like Neighbours, only with more makeup. Pasha snips away some more, and has a little go at my sideburns and trimming away the rampant hair on the back of my neck with a tiny electric razor. He shows me the back of my neck, and I nod with approval (as one always does). Is it over now?

Stage 4: Is it baloney. Pasha continues snipping smaller and smaller quantities of hair off my head for the next five minutes or so. Then he takes a straight razor out, does my sideburns and the back of my neck again, and dusts me off with a big brush. He snips off some more, looks at his handiwork, and brushes me off again.

Stage 5: Gently but firmly get leaned over the basin, and get hair washed again, this time I can see lots of bits of hair going down the sink. Pasha keeps me down a little longer; this is so he can soap the tips of his fingers and give my ears a more thorough clean. If his fingers weren't getting washed quite so often, I might have had more reservations about this. I'm brought back up, and toweled vigorously. Pasha combs my hair straight back over my head, then out come the scissors again, and some more hair disappears.

Stage 6: Okay, cutting phase over. Time for the finishing touches: Pasha first gets a palmful of lemon aftershave and puts it on liberally, all round my chin and the back of my neck. Then he moves over to the cupboard, and gets a can of mousse out while spotty youth rolls up one arm of my shirt to douse my arm with aftershave(!) , give it a quick massage, and then do the same on the other side. Pasha, meanwhile, is combing mousse through my hair, letting it dry for a moment, then blowdrying. Spotty youth switches off orbital sander, circulation begins to return to my feet and calves.

Stage 7: Pasha gets out the little shaver again, trims the very fine hair on my ear, then holds my head still as he trims the nose hair of one nostril and then the other. Then he combs more mousse into the blow-dried hair, and lets it set. Reaching up to my hair, I can feel how it's set even now, like paint shows the lines of the brush-hairs. And... that's it! Apart from some cologne, sprayed onto my neck and chest. Presumably if some Turkish damsel throws herself at me, at least I'll smell right.

It felt at the time like it took an hour, but it only took half that. And it was definitely an experience, never quite knowing what the man was going to do next - there was a bit of nervous smiling on my part, which if I'd been him would have made me do exactly what he did - put on The Full Turkish. Oh, and £10, which you really cannot beat for a value haircut. I may well be going back, maybe in the morning so my workmates can appreciate the glory of a full Turkish haircut, but also because I suspect he shaves people with that cutthroat razor, and I've never had that done.

Ah, yes. The results. I hope I'll look a bit less of a greaseball when I wash this mousse out of my hair.



Thinking about it, I think I'll try the first place again next time.

Edit: Fortunately, I do look less of a greaseball when I wash the stuff out of my hair. I could still smell the aftershave the next morning, though I think my bed is now thoroughly fumigated. Also, note the sideburns - trimmed high, and carefully angled so they slope forward.

Further Edit: I don't know what on earth it is about this post that attracts spambots - but attract them it does. Comments closed!