Kabul beauty parlours flourish, defy Taliban past

KABUL -- The photos in the window promise much: languorous, kohl-rimmed eyes and bright, bold nails -- but once you enter the beauty parlours of Kabul, it becomes clear the images outside are a pale reflection of the vibrant reality inside.

After the Taliban regime was toppled in 2001, small oases of glamour began to flourish in Kabul -- glittering feminine spaces in stark contrast to the dusty, dangerous, male-dominated streets outside.

In the city centre they line entire streets, their interiors protected from the male gaze by windows papered over with images of outrageous make-up and sophisticated hairstyles, their entrances barred by a screen or a simple curtain.

Once the thresholds to these sheltered boudoirs are crossed, veils and scarves are shed.

Add more, add more!

"The families who bring their girls here, they are happy that it's just for girls, so... they know it's very safe," Athena Hashemi, owner of the upmarket salon Henna, told AFP.

The 32-year-old opened her salon two years ago after training in Dubai. She now employs 17 aestheticians.

"They are the best in town," customer Muzhda asserts, a hairdresser intent on the complex architecture of her curly chignon.

Frequented by the wealthy and local celebrities, Henna is also costliest: the "special bride pack" is 9,000 AFN ($133) and includes full body waxing (6,000 AFN).

Muzhda is preparing for her sister's wedding, and the women of her family are gilding themselves in make-up, manicures, blow-outs and henna.

"Afghan women are now very fashionable," explains one customer.

Make-up that challenges traditional Afghan notions of decency is favoured: foundation caked on, eyes framed in false eyelashes and iridescent, bold powders.

"They tell me, 'Add more! Add more!'" sighs Athena.

Making women feel pretty

Hama, a doctor in a large local maternity hospital, arrives with her daughter, who is paying her first trip to the salon ahead of a cousin's wedding.

After the ministrations, adorned in false eyelashes and golden eye shadow and with lips the colour of petunias, Mariam -- aged 16 -- looks 30.

Weddings are a rare opportunity to go out, says her mother, the pins in her hair scaffolding for her heavy locks.

Concerned about kidnappings and militant attacks, Hama and her family, like many others, no longer frequent restaurants. They avoid large gatherings and do not travel outside the city on roads infested with Taliban.

So for weddings, she says, the sky is the limit.

Some years ago a young researcher, Rima Kohli, looked at the effects of make-up on Afghan women after almost four decades of war, including years of suffering under the Taliban's misogynistic rule.

"Women suffered the worst psychological, emotional and mental effects of this war," she said.

"So starting with small achievable steps, like making them feel pretty, at least creates some positive energy and sets the stage to work on deeper issues."

Yet, for the most conservative, beauty salons remain abominations. Athena has no illusions.

"Even today, years later ... they can threaten us," she said. "We must remain prudent."