* * * * *
Shave and a haircut, definitely not two bits
Bunny decided it was time for me to get a haircut. Normally, she does the
cutting, but after the last haircut I received at a real barber shop (in
Brevard [1]—real barber pole, barbers, wood panelling, the works) she felt
that the professionals did a much better job at it then she.
[Just your typical small town barber shop in Brevard] [2]
[But sadly, the barber shop quartet was at the Brevard Music Center
performing the day I got my hair cut.] [3]
But we live in Boca Raton [4], not quite your Small Town, USA™ so we had to
make do with something a bit more upscale, The Man Cave [5]. At the appointed
time, I walked into the Man Cave.
“Welcome, Sean,” said the hostess.
“Um … how did you–”
“You're here for your four o'clock appointment,” she said. “Would you care
for wine? Or perhaps an imported beer from the Continent?”
“Oh. Um. No, I'm fine.”
“Very well. Chel will take care of you,” she said. “Chel! You're four o'clock
is here.” She pointed over to the chairs, nestled among oversized high-
contrast portraits of James Dean and Marlon Brando. “This way,” she said.
“Hello,” said Chel, walking over to lead me to her chair. “Please, take a
seat. Short, over the ears, close cropped shave.”
“How did—”
“Shh, just sit back and relax,” she said, tying a paper collar about my neck
and adjusting the snap-on tarp. “Glasses,” she said.
“Oh, yes,” I said. I took off my glasses, and she placed them gently on the
nearby counter. She then started clipping my hair. It was the typical motions
snip here, snip there, reposition my head, more snipping, use the electric
razer here and there and before long, she had apparently finished with
cutting my hair.
She then lowered the back of the chair so I was nearly lying horizontally.
“Please, relax,” Chel said, as she lowered a folded, steaming hot towel
across the lower half of my face, then raised the folded part to cover my
entire face. Oddly enough, even though I could see the steam rising off of it
(even without my glasses) it wasn't scalding. In fact, it felt nice. It was
wisked off, then she massaged my face, then another towel, then various gels
and what not were rubbed into my face, then another hot towel, then more gels
and finally, the shave with an honest-to-god straight razor. That was weird.
I could feel it (felt like a sharp pencil against my skin) and hear it scrap
the hair off my face.
And with that, I was done.
[Clean shaven] [6]
It was not cheap. But it was a fun experience. And certainly a different
experience from a small town barber shop.
[1]
http://brevardnc.org/
[2]
gopher://gopher.conman.org/IPhlog:2013/03/09/barbershop.jpg
[3]
gopher://gopher.conman.org/IPhlog:2013/03/09/in_the_barbershop.jpg
[4]
http://www.ci.boca-raton.fl.us/
[5]
http://www.mancaveformen.com/
[6]
gopher://gopher.conman.org/IPhlog:2013/03/09/shaved-sean.jpg
Email author at
[email protected]
