Mandy Zelinka

I was trained in Rusk cutting techniques. This should mean jackshit to most people, so let me try to explain without being too terribly technical.
The way I cut hair conforms to head shape. Yeh, still probably doesn't mean shit. Let me try again.
When I first started working downtown, 6 years ago, I worked next to Lyda. She was this tall quiet Mexican woman. She always wore black. I at first thought she to be a very odd hairdresser, as most of us can't shut up, but not Lyda. She would quietly use her texture shears to create the most beautiful of cuts. I had never seen a bob rocked so incredibly hard. When I didn't have clients I would sit, intently, watching her cut hair, mesmorized, much like when I would watch my mother cut hair in the kitchen as a child. It was the most beautiful of events. Unlike beauty shows and other 'big' hairdressers, she always proved herself with her work, not with big showy gestures, or arrogant talk. She would create these necklines that your eyes were drawn to. Necklines? Yes, fucking necklines. I had NEVER seen the nape of a woman's neck look so incredibly sexy. I was hooked. Her haircuts were like a damn drug.
Then the drug wore off and my competitive edge got the best of me. Shit! I told myself. Someone is better than me! I took it upon myself to soak in as much as I possibly could from her. I would sneak peaks of her doing hair out of the corner of my eye while attending to my own clients. Soon this was not enough.
This is when I started my Rusk training. I had heard of the infamous Tatjanna, but nothing could prepare me for this, which I actually think I will save for a later blog, maybe when I need to release anger, I am happy right now and would like to stay that way.
Anyhow - that is where my real training started. Without getting technical, the way I cut hair can be incredibly sexy, and grows out extremely well. I am not just a dresser of hair, nor are my co-workers. We are self-esteem adjusters, and what better way to do it than with a sexy neckline?

I was taught from my wee little brat years, that maintaining a certain presence, from the moment you walk out of your front door, is the job of a lady. Growing up our family constantly had a cash flow problem, but my mother taught my sister and I that whether you shop at Goodwill or Barney's, looking well groomed would keep people from knowing any different. I think this may be where my obsession for nail painting came to fruition. Anyhow, somehow we ended up in private school, a bit humiliated as we arrived every day in the rusty 'green machine' '73 Nova, but my friends for some reason thought I lived in a huge mansion by the way I dressed. (I never got around to letting them come over, as they would then find out the truth, and now I had a rep to uphold.)

The same rule applies today. A true lady would never step a foot out her door without a swipe of gloss, well manicured nails, and her hair combed. It distresses me when I see a smartly dressed women with a claw comb to keep her hair back. You are doing a disservice to your wardrobe. Even a pony can look sleek if done right.

In this economy we cannot afford excess, but what can

This of course, is already assuming you iron your clothes, hang dry your blacks to keep them from fading, polish your shoes, etc.

Your hair is the perfect accessory to any wardrobe, whatever that may be - get a good cut. Personally, my haircuts grow out extremely well (see older blog, "why I love my haircuts.") They can last for months, making the investment much greater. If you spend less money in between my cuts to save money you will just end up back in my chair, dissatified by another stylists lack of training. Sure, they mean well, but I know what I am doing. You can let your hair grow out for up to a year, you can come back every 6 weeks, whatever suits you. BUT, either way, you wear your hair everyday, and personally, I don't want to have to wake up and 'deal' with my hair. I want my hair to compliment my clothes, I want my hair to look good even when I feel like shit. I want my hair to be a fake representation of class when I may be sporting a wife beater under my coat because I ran to the store. I even tend to beleive I have to have the perfect 'Jeep Wrangler' hair - you can't drive one and not look the part, I would again be doing a diservice to my car. (OK, I think I may place a little more importance on my 'items' then I should.) But you work hard for them, treat them right. That, and I really think my hair makes my ten dollar shades look like a million bucks. See, good hair adds value to everything!

http://www.oregonlive.com/living/oregonian/index.ssf?/base/living/1229113516248200.xml&coll=7
(as reprinted from the 'How we live' section from the Oregonian


Hairstylist weaves in high drama
Mandy Zelinka transforms hairdos for two women with creative results
Saturday, December 13, 2008
VIVIAN McINERNY
The Oregonian Staff

Mandy Zelinka is hard at play.

"When I first met my stepson, he laughed and said, 'You play with hair for a living,' " the Portland hairstylist says. "I thought, yeah, I guess I do."

On a recent Sunday at her Pearl District salon, Salon 77, Zelinka glams up two longtime clients to demonstrate that dramatic looks don't necessarily require permanent commitment. Jennifer Hall, a singer, likes to change her stage look and Megan Coughlin, a student, wants to dress up her style for holiday events. Zelinka uses clip-on hairpieces and stitch-styling techniques for temporary allure.

"I kind of grew up in salons," Zelinka says. Her mother was a hairdresser and her best friend's mother owned a salon. "I was the kid who cut off all her Barbie's hair."

Many of Zelinka's first customers are still with her 10 years later. Some trust her to make decisions about what they need, while others come with specific directions. And when a painfully predictable client suddenly insists on a completely different look, Zelinka has learned to approach with caution.

"People usually take out issues on their hair," she says.

Zelinka stays up on the latest techniques but has grown weary of the often-gimmicky demonstrations at hair shows, such as the time a stylist stuck wires all over a model's head and then dangled baby shoes from her hair.

"I like all that art for your head," she says, "but I love that we're coming back to hairdressing."

At Salon 77, Zelinka has 13 stylists, two aestheticians who lease space and two people booking appointments. She also writes a regular column that appears in hair-trade publications.

Here's a look at those two recent makeovers.












Not to gossip, but Jennifer Hall is two-faced. By day she presents a corporate facade and businesslike smile; come night, she's a sultry siren. Such splits call for a good therapist. Or a great hairstylist. Hall opted for Zelinka.

"I'm trying to grow my hair out," Hall says. "Mandy's showing me how to use extensions for the in-between stage."

As the lead vocalist for Jenn and Tonic, Hall often performs wearing vintage cocktail dresses and evening gowns to suit the smoky jazz melodies she favors, but her bob wasn't cutting it.

Zelinka dyes Hall's hair a rich, dark brown and blows it dry. She pulls out a hairpiece from the Jessica Simpson collection that looks something like a little hairy hula skirt laid flat. In the 1960s, women who wanted longer hair instantly got falls that sat atop the head like a wig; today's extensions clip beneath the hair for a more natural look.

"But," Zelinka cautions, "it will look like a mullet unless you take it to your hairstylist and have them add layers."

She forms a top knot with about one-quarter of Hall's hair at the crown. Maybe three inches below that, Zelinka wraps rubber bands around a half-dozen small shanks of hair for pigtails, on which she secures the artificial hair. The extensions reach below Hall's shoulder blades.

Once they're in place, Zelinka snips dozens of layers into them, shortening them several inches. Hall's bob is transformed beyond recognition.

"I just sexified you!" Zelinka declares. "Mee-ow!"

Hall laughs.

"As a performer, I can show up for a gig as whatever mood," she says. "I get to be a different version of myself."













"My older sister was coming to her and then we brought in the whole family and everyone we knew," Coughlin says. "Cousins, friends, neighbors."

Schools have room mothers. Scouts have den mothers. "She's our hair mother," Coughlin jokes.


On this day, the Oregon State University sophomore wants to keep her hair long. So Zelinka just trims it and demonstrates how to curl the ends and pull it up for special occasions using a technique she learned from Kevin Murphy, an Australian stylist whose natural hair-care products she favors.

She holds up a dull, thick, plastic darning needle and says, "It's from the sewing shop." She threads it with fishing line.

She pulls Coughlin's hair into a high ponytail and, within minutes, creates a tousled French roll, loosely twisting and looping bits of hair and stitching them back to the ponytail.

The style is great for brides or special nights out "because you just do this," Zelinka says, pulling the end of the thread. In one swift move, Coughlin's hair tumbles down, like in those old movies with the prim secretary-cum-femme fatale.

Zelinka also pulls Coughlin's hair into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck and twists, loops and stitches it into a mussy chignon. She makes it look easy; she says anyone can achieve a similar look at home with friends and even use colored thread for show.

Makeup artist Madeline Roosevelt creates soft looks for Coughlin and Hall with an airbrush application of mineral makeup, further blending it with a sponge applicator.

"It's quick and flawless," she says, "and stays on for eight to 10 hours."

A freelancer, Roosevelt works on a variety of jobs, including bridal shoots for Jasmine Photography in Portland, Shape and More magazines and MTV's total makeover show, "Made." Her line of custom-blend cosmetics, Madi Cosmetics, will be available next month at her studio, 2505 S.E. 11th Ave., #268, Portland, and online at www.madimakeup.com.

Roosevelt also applies false lashes to Hall and Coughlin, in small clusters on the outer edge of the eye for a natural look. She uses pencil liner softened with a brush to avoid a harsh line.

"The biggest mistake people make," she says, "is not matching foundation to their skin tone."

If you don't have an eye for color, rely on someone who does and "always," she says, "check it in natural light."

Vivian McInerny: 503-294-4076; vmcinerny@news.oregonian.com Megan Coughlin, 19, has put her head in Zelinka's care for 10 years.