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My favourite barber closed shop – maybe it’s time to grow my hair again
Last week, I noticed that the barber shop was closed. Permanently. Perhaps it’s time to grow my hair again.
Photo for illustration: iStock
One of my biggest treats was going to my barber. It’s a ritual steeped in tradition from the moment you enter the shop.
At my barber, there’s no seating arrangement.
You greet the man in charge, he replies with his customary nod and a double snap of his scissors, a sign that you are welcome to take a seat and wait your turn. All the waiting customers are greeted politely, taking note of who is already in line.
As the barber finishes with one customer, he politely asks “next?” and without any ado, the next man in line takes his seat.
There’s never any bickering and never in my experience has anyone tried to jump the queue. Taking to the chair when it’s my turn, a paper towel is placed around the back of my neck and tucked into my shirt, followed by the black sheet to prevent the hair from falling on my clothes.
The sheet is weighed down with what can only be described as lead-filled shoulder pads. Once this ritual is complete, the barber makes eye contact for the first time, but in the mirror. A slight lifting of one eyebrow is my cue to state my demands.
The terminology has not changed in five decades. He understands short at the back, open ears, number 4 at the top.
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For the youngsters, he has pictures of about 50 different scarecrow looks on the wall, and they inevitably use different elements from various pictures to create their own style.
Once the cut is complete, he speaks. “Shave?” Now it’s my turn to reply with a customary nod as I tilt my head back.
This is another ritual altogether. A pea-sized blob of cream is worked into a giant ball of lather and meticulously massaged onto my face before being scraped off with a straight razor.
The result is a new me, rejuvenated, feeling like a million dollars. I don’t care that I still look like an old coin that’s been through a mill.
Last week, I noticed that the barber shop was closed. Permanently. Perhaps it’s time to grow my hair again.
