Barbershops

In 2005 when I finally made the break (http://lucilocket639.blogspot.com, June 5, 2005. Sorry, I can't get this darned thing to link properly to my old blog.) with my hairdresser of 22 years, Mr. Fixit and I have been using the services of one of those express, no appointment needed hair care salon franchises (maybe salon is too strong word to describe this place of business). When Mr. Fixit decided to get a much needed haircut this week, he wanted to go to a real barbershop (the ones with a barber pole outside), not a hairdresser. We discovered that all the barbershops in our town and nearby Clemson had disappeared except for one that is open by appointment only. He decided to drive the 16 miles to the town where he works and find a shop there.

He found one this morning. I waited in the car. When he came out, he had a huge smile on his face. He said, “I had forgotten what it’s like to go to a real barber. Instead of using clippers on the back on my neck, he lathered me up and used a straight razor for the finishing touch. He trimmed my eyebrows and clipped nose hair and ear hair. It was great!”

I was impressed; he hasn’t had as good a haircut in years. And the smell, oh, that smell. You know--that same smell that envelopes every man who has his hair cut in a real barbershop no matter where he may be, from Maine to California and all points in between. My father and grandfather would come home with that same clean smell. That smell is one thing that should never change.