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barber shop
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| Now it's time for a trip to the sink. He turns on the water and ushers you out of the chair, dragging a small barstool over in front of the basin. You take a seat and he shoves your head forward, under the drenching stream, massaging the warm water over your head and neck. At last he turns off the water, and lightly works the towel over your head, then leans you back up.
"I'm
using
a
new soap today,"
he announces, holding up a bottle. The label has a masculine
symbol on it with the slogan, "Fitch, the Man's Shampoo."
"Good stuff," he says as he motions back to the chair.
Sinking into the leather, you lean back and lay your sleeves
on the padded arms as he rapidly towels your head. This time
he picks up a bottle of white cream, pouring out a small
handful. He rubs his hands together, dragging the palms over
your head and wiping the fingers in your hair. He returns
for another dollop, working the second application in more
vigorously. He slides his fingers into a chrome vibrator,
and for five minutes drags the rumbling engine across your
head.
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He
takes
the comb
from the breast pocket of his barber jacket and finds your
part, carving the hair to each side, smoothing it with the
other hand, raking the shining locks around your ears and
combing back a damp wave in front. You catch one more play,
and then the chair spins around and he hands you a mirror. You
break into a big smile and reach for your wallet. "Looks
great, as usual." "One business man's cut," he replies, and
busies himself with the comb and clipper before dusting off
your neck with a generous dose of talc, the finishing touch.
The chair spins back and the cape falls off in one motion.
"See you next week," he calls as you make your way out past
the row of chairs. "You bet."
Nowadays
that
would be
the guy version of a day spa, but in the 'fifties it was
standard operating procedure. Some might find the graphic
description a little long- winded, but the preceding play by
play was right out of the Barber School Textbook, and older
gentlemen not having a Senior Moment will testify that it
was true. Not only true, but typical. The carbon copy crop
going on in every town in America, and in the big city, 24/
7. Standard, everyday, everywhere --your basic guy haircut,
as ubiquitous as jeans are now. The calling card of the
regular guy. The shining glory of the Crown of Creation.
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