Inside the secret salon where Muslim women lift their veils

As she’s whisked up to the third floor of the Mark Garrison Salon off Park Avenue, a scarfed Iman Rashid — decked out in a designer Parker knit dress from Bloomie’s and Louis Vuitton bucket bag — could be mistaken for a movie star with all the pomp and circumstance surrounding her.

But this VIP’s bejeweled head wrap isn’t to shield paparazzi snaps. Rashid is a devout Muslim.

As she slowly unravels her hijab — after making sure any men are out of sight — the 24-year-old special-ed teacher from Jackson Heights, Queens, reveals green-hued locks in need of a deep-conditioning treatment.

“I’m going blue next time,” says Rashid, who in the last two years has dyed her back-length mane from a hot pink ombré to neon green. Friends grill her about why she shells out big bucks — experimental color sessions cost as much as $300 — if her stylist and immediate family members are the only ones who ever see the ’dos. But the traditional beauty insists the splurge is all for her: “It’s not going to waste.”

The luxe treatments are made possible by the salon’s private room, where no men — not even owner Mark Garrison — are allowed to see a woman’s hair, as required by sharia law.

Stylist Dina Hasanovic, who grew up in Montenegro but considers herself a modern Muslim, is one of several female stylists and technicians who service the couture-clad covered clients.

“We speak the same language. I understand their needs,” she says as she preps Rashid for the conditioning treatment. “If they need to pray for 10 minutes, we stop and I show them where to go.”

Those strict rules are why, up until two years ago, Rashid never set foot in a salon, lest a non-familial male see her hair uncovered. All of her hair treatments were done in her living room, by a friend of her mom’s.

For the past two years, the chic UES salon has offered the private space to covered women for no extra charge, something general manager Jenine Ferrari says her fellow high-end competitors can’t touch.

“One hotel salon has a small, dinky room, but you’re beholden to their schedule,” she tells The Post. “You have to come late at night — you’re not a priority.”

One Mark Garrison client from the UAE was so enthralled by the private space this summer that she insisted on creating a sign — entirely in Arabic — to place in the window, stating that the salon “welcomes covered ladies to our private floor.”

Instagram has taken notice, and the salon has seen a boom in business.

“The sign is a magnet,” says Rashid, who credits the sign and the hashtag #hijabfriendly with double-digit increases in covered clients.

“It’s good I saw the sign in Arabic,” says a shy 20-something nursing student from Kuwait, who says she is too private to give her name.

The salon’s next order of business: translating the sign into Hebrew, because Orthodox women have started to slowly trickle into the third-floor fold.

For religious women like Rashid, the sanctuary has been a long time coming.

“In high school, my [non-Muslim] friends would tell me they’re getting a blowout. I was like, ‘I want that,’ ” says Rashid. “I used to go tell my mom and she’d say, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find a place.’ ”

Now Mom’s in on the fun, too.

“She’s 49, and this is the first time she’s been in a salon,” Rashid says of her traditional mother’s first professional haircut a few months ago — lopping off her waist-length hair into a glam bob.

“It means a lot to them, and they’re not left out anymore,” says Hasanovic as she watches Rashid admire her lush locks in the mirror. “It makes them feel a part of the norm.”