In a way the philosopher and the barber are of the same guild; the barber cuts hair and the philosopher splits hairs.
José Ortega y Gasset
There is a saying that the difference between a good haircut and a bad one is two weeks. Something that looks good initially looks not as good once it starts to ‘grow out’. While some who know me may take issue, I don’t think I’m a particularly vain man. But when it comes to haircuts, I seek a good barber and am happy to pay a little more.
Over the past 20 years, I’ve had as many barbers as I’ve moved house. There is an association. Once I find ‘my’ barber, I tend to stick with them. For many years that barber was Pierre, whom you may have guessed was French. I came across him as the result of a birthday present from Sarah, my wife.
I find having my haircut relaxing (not so those little hairs that inevitably find their way under the back of your shirt). Even more relaxing is a ‘wet shave’ with a cutthroat razor. I’ve wet-shaved all my life. I’ve tried electric shavers but find they never give me the close shave I like. When I wet shave, it’s a quick and efficient process with a technique established decades ago, and apart from the occasional slip from a new razor blade, it leaves my face feeling comfortable, smooth, and fresh. I, of course, use a safety razor.
Having the barber shave you with a cutthroat is a distinct experience. To have your face enwrapped in hot towels. Then the rich lathering makes you appear as if you are a white-bearded Santa Claus, and then the feel of the blade coursing through the lather to remove the whiskers. Whiskers that you should let grow for at least a few days to maximise the shave’s benefit. While on your shoulder rests the towel on which the barber wipes streaks of lather and whiskers that the blade removes. The end of the shaving process, which takes much longer than during my daily ablutions, leaves the skin tingling and smooth.
I see such a shave as a rare treat and suspect it harks back to childhood days and watching enraptured while my grandfather shaved in the morning with a cutthroat razor. A razor that he methodically sharpened to a fine edge with a leather strop hung behind the pantry door. It was just such a treat that Sarah gifted me in Murdock the Barbers within Liberty in London. And that’s when I first met Pierre.
A suitable barber should offer more than the ability to cut hair or shave well (and in days gone past, other ‘accessories’ - hence the title of this piece). They should be a conversationist too. Someone with a range of interests, flexible in their beliefs, and who shows an interest in the conversation in which the two of you engage. Pierre was all these things, and I followed him for many years as he moved from employer to employer. Eventually, he set himself up on his own, but my moves towards the southwest of England made it more difficult to make appointments. Sadly, it was time to find another barber.
After some research, I decided to give Hackett’s in Bath a try. There I came across Mike, and again, the magic happened. More than proficient at cutting hair and someone with whom I could engage in lively conversations. He reminded me of my eldest son, given his views on life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
But life takes its turn, and I found myself moving to Newcastle. My choice of barbers here was easy. No need for any research. It would always be George Scott’s, one of Newcastle's best (if not the best) barber shops. Not that George is still there, given he opened the barbers in 1919 within Milburn House on the steeply sloping ‘Side’. The building is on the site of the birthplace of Admiral Lord Collingwood, whom some would argue was the actual victor at the Battle of Trafalgar.
And so, I have now made the acquaintance of Allan, and given his interest in cinema, local history and travel, something tells me that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship….