Short Back and Sides Please

Meeting Her Parents - A Story

As I walked off the platform I saw Sal waiting for me. After we'd kissed and hugged for a bit she took my head in her hands and started inspecting my hair.

- Nice isn't it? I had it cut last week at the salon in town, I said.

- I thought you said you were going to get it cut short, she replied.

- I did

- Well it's shorter than it was but I wouldn't call it short. And it's certainly not short enough if you want to make a decent impression on mam and dad.

- You think so? Well, I suppose  it could be a bit shorter. There's a salon just outside the station, let's go and see if they can fit me in.

I set off for the station entrance but didn't notice that she'd got out her phone and was making a call. When I realised that she wasn't with me I was halfway across the concourse and I turned back to see her chatting so I stopped and waited. She was soon finished and came trotting over.

- It's ok, I've sorted it out, an old friend is going to help us. Come on, this way.

We left the station and headed for her house. or at least we did for a while but as we reached the High Street, we turned left instead of right.

-Where are we going? Your place is that way.

- I told you, an old friend is going to cut your hair. It's just along here.

We stopped outside an old fashioned looking barber's and she opened the door and swept in.

- But ...

- Let's get this sorted. Audrey's an old friend of the family, it won't take long.

I was a bit shocked. I hadn't been in a place like this for years, I didn't think such places still existed. It was just like the shop where I used to get my haircut when I was a kid. I had thoughts of my hair being butchered like it had back then and held back.

- Come along, we haven't got all day.

- But it's a barber's, wouldn't we be better going to a salon to have it done properly.

- Don't be daft, they'll do it properly here, they've been cutting hair for years, they know how to do it. Trust me.

She gave me that look she gives me and I just followed her in. The sights, sounds and smells brought back the memory of all those childhood visits to the barber. No say over how it was cut, just sit down and get virtually scalped. They did 3 different haircuts back there: short back and sides (with the emphasis on short); 'just a trim', which varied from exactly that to short back and sides depending on who did the haircut and who was on the receiving end; and crew cut, which was quarter of an inch all over and even shorter at the back and sides if you were unlucky.

There was an old barber inside running his clippers up the back of a young boy's neck, while the lad's mother sat on one of the bentwood chairs looking on.

- Ah, there you are, said the barber, I'll just go and tell Audrey you're here. She's in the salon next door dealing with a client but she shouldn't be long.

He disappeared through a doorway at the back of the shop towards the adjoining salon, reappearing a few seconds later.

- Just take a seat, she'll be through in a minute.

With that, he switched his clippers back on, pushed the kid's head forward until his chin was on his chest again and got back to work with his shearing. At least a woman's going to cut my hair, I thought to myself, so hopefully she'll be styling it and my hair won't be massacred. I was getting nervous as I watched the boy's hair dropping to the floor all around him, thinking that could be me.

- I'm sorry to be putting you through this, said Sal, but if you want things to go ok with my parents then you'll have to trust me that this is the right thing to do. And you'll look great with short hair. I promise I'll make it up to you later when mam and dad have gone out.

She gave me another look and resigned myself to my fate. Just then a woman, Audrey I presume, came through from the ladies' salon next door. She was quite tall, handsome, middle aged  and wearing a white nylon smock over a tweed skirt.

- Ok then, let's get you done. Hop up into the chair.

I walked over and climbed into the chair.

- I'd like it cut short please.

She wafted out a pale blue nylon cape and then billowed it out over my knees before pulling it up snugly to my neck and tucking it tightly into the collar of my shirt. She turned to Sal and said:

- How short do you want it Sally?

- You can leave it a bit longer on the top so he can do something with it but give him a proper short back and sides like dad.

I wanted to object but one look from Sal and I gave in to the inevitable. 

All caped up and ready to go

We've had the shop and the chair (see below) and now we come to, for me, the most important and enjoyable part of the whole process: the cape. I can't stress enough how important this is for me. When selecting a shop for my next haircut, it is the prime consideration. It can't be just any old cape, though of course it can be old and well used, it has to be made of a decent weight nylon. I love the feel of the material against my skin and the rustling noise it makes as the barber billows the cape out over me, coming to rest over the arms of the chair forming a shallow hollow across my lap where the hair can collect.

Once you've been enveloped in the cape there's absolutely no turning back. You are at the mercy of the barber wielding scissors, comb, clippers and razor. I don't like clips or poppers or pins to hold the cape in place. At a pinch I'll settle for a velcro fastening but the best way to secure the cape is for it to be tucked firmly into the collar of my shirt and then I can feel nylon against the skin on my nape and the barber can tug it down to gain access to the lower reaches of my neck with the clippers and razor later on.

You may have noticed in the above pictures that the nylon capes on show share something else in common, they're all blue and there's not a sign of any of those awful rubber/plastic cutting collars. I don't know what it is about blue (light is better than dark), most likely it's a memory from childhood but it's my favourite colour for a cape. Other colours will do, just so long as they're made and set right, but I think blue sets off the cut hair better and the hair must end up on the cape. I've seen barbers try to flick hair straight to the floor but I'd rather see it fall onto the cape, sometimes catching in a fold or tumbling all the way into my lap. Collecting on my shoulders or tickling the back of my neck as a fluffy mass drops from the clippers running up the back. What's the point of all that hair being cut off if you can't see it on the cape in the mirror or accumulating in your lap when your chin's pushed down to your chest?

Having a haircut

It's not really the end result that interests me, though I don't want to come out with a bad haircut obviously, but the whole process, the ritual. There are many elements that go to make up the perfect haircut and the first of these is the shop itself.

It needs to be as old-fashioned and traditional as possible. Whilst being clean and hygienic, it shouldn't be sterile and if it's all a bit frayed around the edges through lots of use over the years, then all the better. Then there are smells of lotions and shampoos and of hair, hot from the blowdryer or freshly cut which add to the atmosphere.

The chairs should be proper barber's chairs with a leather razor strop attached, a Belmont or some such, not the sort of thing you'd find in a trendy salon that looks more like a typist's chair. And it should have a foot-operated lever for raising and lowering. Each chair should face a sink with a mirror above it. Even better if the mirror runs along the whole wall so that I can see what's going on in the other of the 3 or 4 chairs.

While waiting I should be able to see what's going on in the chairs. A series of old bentwood chairs along the opposite wall, or maybe a red padded bench, with a low table full of out of date newpapers and magazines. Not that I read any of them of course, though I may pretend while watching the haircuts going on in front of me. There are fewer better things to see in a barber's than a reluctant, shaggy-haired youth on the receiving end of a good shearing.

Clippers, combs and scissors in jars of barbicide or maybe a steriliser cabinet on the wall, a chrome cotton wool dispenser, shampoos, styptic pencils, jars of brylcreem and bottles of bay rum and other lotions, tissues, towels and talc, brushes and razors. All of these on display on the counter by the sink or on the wall by the mirror are integral to making a good barber shop.

I've yet to find the perfect shop, it's probably not even out there anymore.

Nice picture another nice story