Adventures in Barbershopping
For as long as I can remember, I’ve gotten my hair cut at salons. This probably goes back to the fact that I was raised by a single mom. I got my hair cut where she got hers cut. So, my memories of getting a haircut revolve around oversized hard-cover men’s styling portfolios, me being the only guy in the building, and lots and lots of talking.
Even after I left home, I continued to go to salons. To be blunt, I was afraid of the traditional barber shop. As a teen, I loved my long blonde hair and the potential damage that would be inflicted by electric razors was unfathomable. Age has relieved me of the burdens of vanity, and the cost associated with getting a salon cut was just getting to be ridiculous. Last week I threw caution to the wind and entered an honest-to-god barber shop.
The Barber Pole (real name) is a short walk from the office. I’d passed it dozens of times, never looking in the window. The first step across the threshold was greeted with a shoe-shine stand. Past that was a row of chairs, running the length of the shooting-alley styled shop. There was a sign-up list on a desk in the middle of the room. No receptionist, no reservations. The waiting row faced the five barber chairs, all of which were occupied. Christmas songs were on the radio and there was a buzz of electric razors. Other than that, silence. There was no gossip about the day’s events. No meaningless chit-chat. No mouths were moving. The shop’s magazine rack wasn’t filled with styling magazines, just copy after copy of Maxim.
My wait was brief. Dialog with the barber was limited to a question and answer. “How short can I go?” I responded with a half-attempt to describe what I wanted. Mostly, I just wanted it to be over. 15 minutes later, I had a fresh haircut.
The best part was the neck shave. Hot lather and a straight blade. That and the not talking. I never realized how uncomfortable that made me. I wasn’t even told the price. She just pointed to the dollar amount on the register. $16 and I was out the door. And I’ll be back in two weeks.
Categorized as General
Glad you made the change. I never realized the “joy” of the haircut. I tried a few “salons” in my time in Savannah, but they never quite understood, “give me a ‘high-fade’ with a little off the top.” I tried in vain for years to find a barber that could compare to the Columbus, GA “Shaky Jakes” just outside Fort Benning, or the Hinesville, GA “Off Post Barber Shop” while in Savannah, GA until I resigned myself to being my own barber. There is little to no conversation, especially when it comes to payment, but I do miss the hot lather and straight razor finish.