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| Yulia Barabasheva: A Moscow businesswoman, she works 12-hour days at her new beauty salon– sometimes closing up shop at midnight.
She feels intense responsibility for her 14 employees, who, she says, have become like a family to her. Melanie Stetson Freeman - staff |
Putin generation: Opportunity – and corruption – test a young entrepreneur
Yulia Barabasheva puts in long hours at her beauty salon, which she opened last April.
from the February 27, 2008 edition
Page 4 of 4
Risking their wrath is a bold step to take for employees who don't have, Barabasheva says, her penchant for perfection. "In the old times, [hairdressers] taught their profession much better – I can't even compare to now. Not so many people realize how bad they are at their profession," says Barabasheva, who adds that she can size up a hairdresser by the manner in which she picks up a pair of scissors.
Looking beyond appearances
But for Barabasheva, her employees are more than professionals. The family atmosphere she has tried to cultivate has borne fruit: they're a crucial support to her as she goes through her second divorce at age 25.
"For the first time, I felt I was quite empty and couldn't give anything to anyone," she says. "But my clients and all my staff helped."
Her staff are all women, since she has been underwhelmed by former male colleagues. "They have almost nothing left of a man in them," she says despairingly. And it's not just colleagues: In general, she yearns to see men show more responsibility and devotion to their families – though she doesn't criticize Igor, with whom she says she is still friendly.
"There is something wrong in the society. Nobody looks inside, into your soul, but everyone is looking at your face and your figure – appearance is everything," says Barabasheva, who sees her salon as countering that through female camaraderie. "I think it is the women who are to blame for that. Everything is on sale. We sold ourselves.... I always thought that being rich leads to degradation, but being poor also leads to a degradation."
But, coming from "the wonderful city" of Pushkin whose residents are "hospitable, kind, open," she admits that she often judges people too harshly.
"I still can't accept people as they are," says Barabasheva apologetically, describing the sad, angry faces she sees on the street. "As soon as we learn ... to take them as they are, to forgive them, then we will live much better here."



















