Mullet Magic

My hair was getting too long so I thought it might be a good idea to get it cut at a salon in town. Now, had I known that getting a haircut would be the most nerve-racking experience ever; I may have opted to wait until I was in Tbilisi to get it cut.

On Friday, Nini met Melissa and I after her classes and took us to her favorite beauty salon in Samtredia. As soon as I walked in I started to get a bit panicky. The hair salon (which also does electrotherapy treatments) had two female customers who both seemed to be getting frighteningly short mullet-esque cuts.

In retrospect, when all the customers in the shop are getting mullets, that should be a cue to quietly exit.

A good friend of the family owns the salon however, so once we stepped inside it was pretty clear we had to get something done. As I quietly panicked that the haircutters would cut off all my hair, Nini began to tell me what hairstyles she thought would like nice on me. Nini was encouraging me to get an asymmetrical cut. As in, one side of my hair would be really short, the other left long. I then looked at Melissa in further panic; Nini was my translator. After explaining to Nini that I most definitely did not want an asymmetrical cut or a mullet or a mushroom cut, it was time to meet my hairstylist.

My first hairstylist was named Miranda but after seeing how panicked I was, Miranda decided she refused to cut my hair. True story. Thus, the elder woman in the salon agreed to take me on. I think I explained about eight times how I wanted my hair cut. Once with actual photographs, twice with hand motions, two times Nini explained what I wanted in Georgian then Melissa told the woman what I wanted in English, and I explained what I wanted in Russian (and in English, just in case).

Before the actual hair-cutting however comes the hair washing. In Samtredia, you self wash your hair in the sink using fancy shampoo. Now, I am not an ignorant person but I did not at first understand that I was supposed to lean over in the sink and wash my hair.

That posed this conversation:

Me: “I wash my hair?”
Nini: “Yes, Michelle”
Me: “So, I wash it in the sink”
Nini: “Yes”
Me: “I put my head in the sink and I add water and shampoo”
Nini: “Yes”
Me: “In the sink? I go to the sink?”
Nini: “I will be with you. Don’t be afraid”
Me: “Wait, I wash it or the stylist washes it?”
Nini: “Okay, if scared, I can wash it”
Me: “No, okay, wait- so I wash it in the sink?”

Well, finally I understood. And I washed my hair in the sink. Like a big girl. Unfortunately due to my crazy nerves, I also washed my face and my t-shirt.

Now picture it, I am soaking wet, terrified, about to let the resident mullet-expert cut my hair. Melissa rather spontaneously decided to go first, hoping that if she got a bad cut it might make me less nervous. (Somehow this seemed to make sense at the time).

Well Melissa went and did just that. I wouldn’t say she got a bad cut, but let’s just say she’s been begging one of us to take a scissor to her hair so she doesn’t have layers that are three-inches apart. So as Melissa began panicking that she had what one could feasibly describe as a subtle mullet (but really it’s not that bad) we both agreed we’d only get through the day with some wine and chocolate.

Thankfully, my hairdresser pretty much seemed to understand the style I wanted. My hair isn’t perfect, but the cut only cost six laris (less than four dollars) so I can’t complain too much. Plus, after your mom accidentally cuts off all your bangs when you’re in the third grade, no other haircut can really be called ‘bad’ (love you, Mom).

Melissa washing her hair in the sink. (The disarray of the photo seems to accurately describe the situation).

Miranda taking a scissor to Melissa's hair. (Once again, the dark undertones of the photo seem to describe the scene perfectly).