Hello, and Welcome (back) to the Barbershop

This blog began with my waxing poetic about my issues with my own barbershop patronage.  Quick recap: I felt bad going to Spanish and not black barbershops and also about how my tips were pithy sums of monetary appreciation.  In the past few months, I was able to make good on my moral vows, and I began getting my hair cut at a black-owned barbershop immediately adjacent to the building in which I work.  Morally, I felt a little better by putting money back into the community, and financially, the haircut cost no more than usual.  Aesthetically, however, this barbershop gave a “professional” haircut.  In my personal handbook of “Haircut Lingo” the term professional is not all that wonderful.

...when I think of professional haircuts...

The difference between “business casual” and “black tie” aptly describes the difference between this place near my office, and the former shop I used to patronize near my house. While business casual is respectable, it won’t be commented upon and certainly won’t turn any heads, the way that “black tie” will. I missed my “black tie” haircut, the freshness of a line derived from a straight razor, instead of just sharp clippers. After an ill-fated “boycott” on the business casual barbershop*, I was motivated to rise and head to the “black tie” barbershop, where I would endure a 4 hour wait, and have the opportunity to make many observations**

• Watching MTV Jams without the sound it alternatively fascinating and frustrating.  I enjoyed looking that the visual composition, but I was intently confused because they were blasting Spanish radio.  Watching Beyonce shake and seemingly lip-sync to Daddy Yankee is confusing to the brain
• Jaime Foxx makes bad videos.  I said it
• No matter how many tattoos you have, no matter how tight your cornrows are, no matter how fierce your swagger is, CROCS are decidedly NOT gangster, or hard, or even fashionable.  Put them away please.
• It is funny to see an athletes in a 90′s music video when he was at the top of his limited game, only to know that you ran into him in a random CVS a few weeks ago.
• I do get a kick out of people who complain about the wait at the barbershop as if their new to the system. If you didn’t make an appointment, why bother complaining; bring a book, a Coke and smile and shit the f**k up.
• A beautiful Spanish woman with two children sits next to you.
• If you don’t speak Spanish (I don’t) then eventually you’ll feel left out of the raucous jokes, subtle glances, and cultural humor.  Soon after that you’ll be convinced they’re talking about you and vow to learn Spanish overnight so you can retort.
• If you see a family with 4-5 kids that seems like they know the barber…they DO know the barber and each one of the those damned kids will be getting a haircut before you.  There is absolutely nothing you can do about it.
• I’ll say it….where in the hell did Latin guys learn to cut hair so well?  This uncanny skill with the razor can arise from:

1. Crime (with razors)
2. Cutting each others hair since the age of 4
3. Crime (with razors)

...I am sure my Latin barbers did these...

After all of these keen observations, I finally got my haircut, and it fell into a new category of “very nice, decent line, good goatee work”.  It was quintessentially business formal.  No heads were turned, but people appreciated it.

*Unlike the transcendent effort in 1955 against the Montgomery Bus System, my boycott did not yield any widespread legislative changes, but my hair became unkempt. In the end, I only hurt myself, and over the most foolish of grievances.
**Feel free to take these as sweeping generalizations

***Appros po of nothing, here is a paparazzi picture I snapped of Denzel Washington last night.

...Greatness...

Hello and welcome…to the Barbershop

Hello and welcome, I’ll update my own personal stats later.  At the risk of sabotaging my entire morning, I went to the barbershop, every male, who is of color, knows the phenomenon of no appointments, crying kids, bean pies, and of course, an impeccable haircut.

I really am at odds with myself over my choice of barbershops lately.  I switched to a new barbershop (a treacherous decision) and I no longer funnel money into my own community.  This vexes me because I know that barbers work very hard, and hone ther craft well.  I am not sure of the technical training required to cut heads.  My friend, Handsome Rawb, once claimed that he had heard rumors about a “School of Barbery.”  At various barbershops, there are usually  certificates of accomplishment adorning the walls. Whether these are for “barbery” or completing Sunday School, I don’t know.  I don’t question the man with the clippers in his hands.

Basically I feel I should be putting my money into the black community in some form or fashion.  My job doesn’t do it.  My neighborhood isn’t really all that black, and I just changed supermarkets for issues of convenience.  The barbershop has always been my tipping point, my “one-up” when people talk about keeping money in the community.  I get about 20 haircuts a year and tip rather well*, and I know I am not keeping food on anyone’s table, but I felt good.

I did NOT leave the black barbershop, it left me.  They closed down, put a sign up on the door**, and BOOM, my bi-monthly routine is all jacked up.  No warning and no notice, aside from that dumb-ass sign.

It sure ain't like this...

Now I understand that things happen, but I knew the business was not managed well.  Let’s just say that there were “alternative methods***” of income at the barbershop, and their hours of operation were a mere suggestion.  They might open at 9am, they might open at 9:45, who knows.  This is the swelling reason that most people give as to why they rarely support black business.  This is extremely sad, and sometimes true.

Until I find a better solution, I will continue to give my money to my new favorite barbershop “Mi Favortia Barbaria” where they specialized in Fadez.  (that entire sentence has been spell-checked, that is just what the sign says).  Spanish own, Spanish run, and depressingly efficient.  Depressing, because my last vestige of “giving back” has dried up.

Damn.

*I just did the math, and I only tip 13.3%.  I am a cheap bastard…this WILL change

**The “sign” consisted of a piece of printer paper with sharpie marker with a cell number

***DRUGS, I’m talkng about drugs