Very good essay, sir! I'm a musician / performer. The hair has got to be right.
During Covid someone came to my house to cut my locks. I fell head over heels for her. She hand drew me a birthday card and she made me A Christmas ornament. My hair was flaming red at the time and she would dye it and we'd sit there drinking tea and listening to rockabilly music and talking while it set. When she cut my hair I could feel the heat of her body and I could see her little tummy going in and out with each breath. Or I would take her picture, she was very beautiful. 5 years later one of the pictures I took of her is still her Facebook photo.
Then COVID lifted and she got a job in a salon and that was kind of the end of it. But I will always remember that angel in my apartment and the heat of her body, and her kindness.
In my humble opinion, Andy, a timeless and pithy subject for bemusing reflections. I patronise a local barber who is decidedly 'old school.' Not quite as 'old' as the medieval 'barber/blood -etter' with the archetypal, round brass bowl featuring a curvilinear neck crescent cut into one side (such as served the venerable Don Quixote as a noble helm and as the functional barbering basin of Figaro, in Rossini's opera), but more of the 50s era type. He plays 50s R&R hits, most of which are well known to me, as the antediluvian fossil I am.
One thing you could have expanded upon (although this post is lovely and quite interesting) is the nature of the myriad conversations that ebb and flow between hair-cutter and hair-cuttee. My barber (whose name is Ray) and I typically talk about women (the problems of living with them, and yet needing occasional plunges into those dense forests of public flora. for Satyric satiation..."A man's GOT to have his pleasures, Young Jaimie, me boy!" as Long-John Silver explains to the hapless cabin boy, in Stevenson's adolescent epic tale of Spanish Main treasure and pirate booty), and also about the current political madhouse that is the Schizophrenic State of Californica.
These exchanges have become absolutely critical for me, since rarely does one otherwise have a chance to exercise every Grumpy Old Man's birthright of yelling at clouds, without oppositional verbosity from the peanut gallery! My brain typically leaves Ray's parlour feeling absolutely cleansed of all superfluous ruminative chaos!
In this capacity, Ray is better therapy than paying a shrink to stand-by, on retainer! And certainly FAR less costly.
Ray's prices have risen a bit , unfortunately. I recall when a simple haircut cost $1.25 (yeah, I'm THAT old, but I also remember gas, back in Bezerkeley of the early 70s costing only $0.25 a Gallon, too, and new Volkswagen Bugs for only $2000 out the door!). He now charges $30 ($35 with tip). Still, his ministrations (both cutting-wise and philosophy-wise) are worth their weight in Bitcoins, as far as I am concerned. It's a regular local 'Old Boys Club' that would do full justice to Saint James Street or Pall Mall in London's West End.
From a more practical vantagepoint, getting a haircut at Ray's is a lot like ordering a steak at Ruth's Chris Steak House: you may order it as 'rare, medium or well-done' but you get it just about any way the Maître cuisinier feels is appropriate to your station in life. Ditto for Ray...and his's always right on target!
Bonne chance et meilleurs vœux pour une coupe de cheveux réussie, Andy! -K2
Merci, K2. Ton message m’a fait sourire. J’aime penser que le barbier est peut-être le dernier apothicaire du quotidien. On vient pour une coupe, et, sans s’en rendre compte, on refait le monde.
I think of the sting and scents of witch hazel and lilac vegetal. And I am at a point in life where I am visited by thoughts of Persephone giving me a final haircut.
OMG I remember being 16 and a 19-year-old cut my hair. I couldn't even speak, I was so attracted to her. Of course I was just a kid so she paid me no mind! :)
Very good essay, sir! I'm a musician / performer. The hair has got to be right.
During Covid someone came to my house to cut my locks. I fell head over heels for her. She hand drew me a birthday card and she made me A Christmas ornament. My hair was flaming red at the time and she would dye it and we'd sit there drinking tea and listening to rockabilly music and talking while it set. When she cut my hair I could feel the heat of her body and I could see her little tummy going in and out with each breath. Or I would take her picture, she was very beautiful. 5 years later one of the pictures I took of her is still her Facebook photo.
Then COVID lifted and she got a job in a salon and that was kind of the end of it. But I will always remember that angel in my apartment and the heat of her body, and her kindness.
Yeah that eroticism of care is real—and during COVID when we were all starved for touch and connection.
Chuckled several times during this. I’ve never thought of a visit to the barbershop in terms such as those. Very well done.
Thanks man!
In my humble opinion, Andy, a timeless and pithy subject for bemusing reflections. I patronise a local barber who is decidedly 'old school.' Not quite as 'old' as the medieval 'barber/blood -etter' with the archetypal, round brass bowl featuring a curvilinear neck crescent cut into one side (such as served the venerable Don Quixote as a noble helm and as the functional barbering basin of Figaro, in Rossini's opera), but more of the 50s era type. He plays 50s R&R hits, most of which are well known to me, as the antediluvian fossil I am.
One thing you could have expanded upon (although this post is lovely and quite interesting) is the nature of the myriad conversations that ebb and flow between hair-cutter and hair-cuttee. My barber (whose name is Ray) and I typically talk about women (the problems of living with them, and yet needing occasional plunges into those dense forests of public flora. for Satyric satiation..."A man's GOT to have his pleasures, Young Jaimie, me boy!" as Long-John Silver explains to the hapless cabin boy, in Stevenson's adolescent epic tale of Spanish Main treasure and pirate booty), and also about the current political madhouse that is the Schizophrenic State of Californica.
These exchanges have become absolutely critical for me, since rarely does one otherwise have a chance to exercise every Grumpy Old Man's birthright of yelling at clouds, without oppositional verbosity from the peanut gallery! My brain typically leaves Ray's parlour feeling absolutely cleansed of all superfluous ruminative chaos!
In this capacity, Ray is better therapy than paying a shrink to stand-by, on retainer! And certainly FAR less costly.
Ray's prices have risen a bit , unfortunately. I recall when a simple haircut cost $1.25 (yeah, I'm THAT old, but I also remember gas, back in Bezerkeley of the early 70s costing only $0.25 a Gallon, too, and new Volkswagen Bugs for only $2000 out the door!). He now charges $30 ($35 with tip). Still, his ministrations (both cutting-wise and philosophy-wise) are worth their weight in Bitcoins, as far as I am concerned. It's a regular local 'Old Boys Club' that would do full justice to Saint James Street or Pall Mall in London's West End.
From a more practical vantagepoint, getting a haircut at Ray's is a lot like ordering a steak at Ruth's Chris Steak House: you may order it as 'rare, medium or well-done' but you get it just about any way the Maître cuisinier feels is appropriate to your station in life. Ditto for Ray...and his's always right on target!
Bonne chance et meilleurs vœux pour une coupe de cheveux réussie, Andy! -K2
Merci, K2. Ton message m’a fait sourire. J’aime penser que le barbier est peut-être le dernier apothicaire du quotidien. On vient pour une coupe, et, sans s’en rendre compte, on refait le monde.
I think of the sting and scents of witch hazel and lilac vegetal. And I am at a point in life where I am visited by thoughts of Persephone giving me a final haircut.
Yeah the whole erotic dimension of the haircut is a great direction too.
Yesssssssss I will not let a man cut my hair.
I prefer it :-) Early sexual awakening for me.
OMG I remember being 16 and a 19-year-old cut my hair. I couldn't even speak, I was so attracted to her. Of course I was just a kid so she paid me no mind! :)