Yolanda’s Salon – Beauty Conscious in Latin America
Being an elementary school teacher, I am not one to dress up much for work. I own a few dresses and a couple (medium height) heels which I take out only for very special occasions (our wedding anniversary dinner, or a concert at the Maison Symphonique, for example.) Since teachers in Canada generally enjoy a long summer break I did not own many “fancy” warm weather clothes in my wardrobe collection. Imagine my unease when I noticed that most women in Honduras dress up and wear makeup regularly. In our particular neighborhood of Tegucigalpa, moms flounce around in dress skirts, high heels and makeup -at 7am- just to drop off their children at daycare! Even the nannies dressed in uniforms wear discreet eyeliner and mascara when they accompany their clients to the playground. Suffice to say, that I’ve been working on “modernizing” my look ever since. I went to Yolanda’s Salon and observed that women are very beauty conscious in Latin America.Here are some anecdotes on my efforts to “look the part” in Latin America.
These days there is so much pressure to dress up. To look nice. To look like you woke up that way, like you did not make an effort but also look like you never had to work (cook, clean) a day in your life. In order to keep up with the Jones’ I quickly ordered some new dressy looking tops online and went to the local mall in order to buy some comfortable but chic three-quarter length pants. That’s another thing. Although it can be 30C out, women still wear long pants; apart from at the beach on the island of Roatan, there is rarely a “short short” to be seen on a woman in this conservative Christian country.
Pretty Pedicure
Since it is sunny and warm every day here, I am often in sandals and wanted to have some pretty feet to go in them. This required a pedicure. As I’ve come to learn; in Honduras things are never quite as easy as they seem. A neighbor recommended I try Yolanda’s Salon. I drove there in the car by following the instruction on my Waze app. The indoor parking lot was on a steep incline in a small enclosed space. There is a pile up of cars just to enter the indoor parking lot; it’s like Tetris game of big SUVs all trying to enter and leave a narrow entrance at the same time! The armed security guard directed me to reverse park into a spot towards the end of the lot. Just as I step out of the car and began to lock the doors, an Armored Cadillac with CD (diplomatic) plates rolled into the spot beside me. Out pop two drivers each wearing imposing ear pieces which shine upon their bald heads. They are also carrying hefty guns in their hip holsters. I assume one is the private driver of the armored vehicle and the other appears to be a personal body guard. “What kind of place have I gotten myself into?” I anxiously wonder.
The somber looking security personnel accompany two light skinned women, one brunette, one blond, both middle aged and American looking. They walk in convoy through the hall and down the 30 steps to the front desk of the salon. I follow at a distance. The women don’t speak very much Spanish and struggle to verify their appointment with the receptionist. Eventually it becomes clear that they are here to get their hair and nails done. The body guard and driver return upstairs to wait in the parking lot while the women are pampered. I’m soon whisked away into another room for my pedicure. A few days later, while reading the local El Heraldo daily newspaper, I recognize the tall American woman in a photo. She is the American Ambassador to Honduras. No wonder her security personnel is a little tighter than mine!
Observations from the Fish Bowl
During my pedicure, I observe that Yolanda’s Salon is a like bubble for the rich and famous elite members of the capital of Honduras. I let myself be pampered and feast my eyes from this fish bowl. Everyone is extremely busy. After all, “time is money and money is precious.” The lady sitting in the chair across from me is having her hair, hands and feet done -all at the same time- by three different people! Out the window, there is a very pretty view of the city down below; but everyone is too busy looking at themselves in the mirror or on their phones to actually notice.
An elderly man hobbles down the steps. He is dressed in brown pants a well iron pleated button up dress shirt under a woolen sweater vest. The regular client wears a large watch on his wrist with glasses perched on the end of his nose. The man asks for a pedicure with Waldina his favorite member of staff. The man gingerly sits down in the large leather chair for his feet to be primped. He then whips out his phone and starts scrolling. “I’m going to Houston for two weeks.” He tells the lady at his feet. “I’ll cut your nails short then.” She replies. The conversation ends there.
To my left is a lady with features so taught and unexpressive that she must have had several Botox treatments done. “Is it too much effort to smile?” I wonder to myself. Maybe she is having a bad day. On this cool morning, the obviously beauty conscious Latina woman is dressed for the beach in a light sheath, high stiletto heels and long flashy earrings. Under her arm she carries a miniature pit bull (she made sure I knew the breed) sporting a demure bow tie.
Suddenly she looks up from her screen and shrieks to the attendant in a crisis voice: “
-I don’t know what dress I’m going to wear!
-For a wedding?
-No a baby shower next week.
-Don’t worry, I’m sure you will find something. What color would you like today?
–Prestame la Passion (Give me the Passion)
–Que? (What?)
–Adonde esta? (Where is the passion?)
–En la cama!! (In the bedroom!) Ha! Ha! Everyone laughs politely.”
On my way home from the pedicure, I drive by a one-legged man resting on the sidewalk. His lone battered crutch is propped up on the fence post beside him. I immediately feel sorry for him and ashamed of my indulgent pampering morning. I drive by and wonder what his story is: Was he injured in a fight? Did he fall off the train trying to migrate north? Did he fall ill and had to be amputated? Unfortunately, it is too dangerous and risky for me to stop and find out. So, I sigh and continue on to the little bubble that we now call home.
Makeup Lessons
A mother of one of the students at daycare offers beauty treatments in her home. The first time I went to Tihama Studio for a haircut, I came home with a new hairdo as well as a makeover! Since I am not used to wearing makeup, at first, I felt like a painted doll. That day, I noticed how the clerks in the store paid more attention to me. The security guards were more welcoming. I commanded more attention just from the way I looked! Although I will probably never dress-up and put on make-up just to go drop off my child at daycare, there are certain occasions like an interview, the first day at a new job, or a diplomatic dinner where first impressions matter. I’m not getting any younger and it’s okay to use some camouflage and subtle techniques to bring out my better side. So I started taking makeup lessons. I guess the beauty conscious of Latin America is rubbing off on me a little bit. As I was completing this blog post, I came upon the image of “The Cultural Iceberg” (see below) which illustrates the cultural differences which are easy to see (language and food, for example) versus those which are more difficult to see (family roles, body language, gender roles, to name a few.) The deeper you dive into the water, the more subtle thus these differences are and therefore more difficult to understand. Low and behold, “beauty ideals” appears halfway down the submerged part of the iceberg. This Diplomat’s Wife is only starting to scratch at the surface of what it means to be a Honduran.
Comments:
What is your beauty routine?
How much time and effort do you put into your appearance?