I have a barbershop that I frequent. It’s old, and it’s great.
When I started getting my hair cut there, it was a man and his son who ran the place. They had an old black-and-white TV — in Bakelite orange — sitting in the corner. They had couple of old newspapers and a stack a mile high of Playboys and Maxims by the waiting bench.
They had a big old brass cash register, with a very satisfying ka-ching. There’s a yellowing sign on the wall, apologizing to long-time regulars for raising the price of haircuts above $10.
I don’t know what a haircut there costs these days. It might be $11, or even $12. I hand them a $20, and refuse any change. It’s worth it.
But a couple of years ago the son left, moving to another city to pursue his dream of being a police officer. The father hired a girl to help out. The Playboys, then the Maxims, disappeared. The TV stopped working, and it’s been replaced with a modern model.
The cash register is still there, though — as big and bright as ever.
The man has MS, and he’s not there as often anymore. When he does have the energy to give a few haircuts, it’s with a very pronounced limp. And every now and then he’ll have to rest the full weight of his meaty palm on your head.
But I’ll keep going there for my haircuts.
And until today, I didn’t think there was anything that could make it any better.
But what if they added a bar?
That’s what a place called The Blind Barber in New York did:
I stretched out in a chair, watched a lavishly tattooed stylist come at me with loudly whirring clippers and felt a very, very keen thirst. But how to quench it?
I left that up to the three young proprietors, who decided on something that would have been more appropriate for my subsequent appointment with a straight razor. The Sweeney Todd, they call it. It’s one of their signature concoctions, made of Irish whiskey, egg white, lemon juice, honey syrup and the same dark humor that went into the naming of the place.
The bar’s in the back, and it even has a separate entrance, if you want to go there without getting your hair cut. But I can’t help but love the fact that they even thought about pairing it.
I love my own little barbershop. It’s been there for ages, and I’ll keep going there. Right now, in the back, I think there’s a beauty salon (it isn’t the kind of place where men and women mix much — the new barberess notwithstanding). But maybe they could knock out a wall, expand next door, open a bar?
Even just a fridge, tucked away by the TV, with a few cans of beer.
I’d gladly pay more for a haircut!