Shave and a Haircut

Only one day out from having to fulfill my Guard duty, and my hair is about as long as it has been since I sported a half-hearted mullet back in the '80s. Bound to have lunch in Grandin Court, I thought I'd try the barber shop I've seen down there a few times - the aptly named Grandin Road Barber Shop. It's hidden in plane sight next to Grandin Theatre.

Inside, '70s-style décor such as green leather seats and the old and rugged barber chairs go along with the oldies music softly humming in the background. Signs posted on the wall behind each chair identify the barbers, of which there are two out three working.

The one cutting my mop is named Roger - a nice and genuine older fellow who's likely been cutting hair longer than I've been alive. Amid the proclaimed "crowd" of five or so people, there's talk about the economy, social consciousness, and the neighborhood.

I see the guy in front of me getting shaved with a straight razor and I tell me wife that I've always wanted to do that just to see what it's like.

When it's my turn, we talk about the weather (which is beautiful) and about the occasion for the cut and style. Just as I think he's finished, he swaps the paper collar out and starts to lather me up around the ears and on the neck. It looks like I'll be getting a razor cut today.

I look at my wife and see that she's smiling, but she's really only a blur since I've had to lose the glasses.

The experience was interesting, and I decided to go in just for the shave one of these days or coupled with the next haircut. The rate is pretty cheap, they take checks, and I walked away smelling like my grandfather.