From the day a man realizes bowl cuts are no longer an option, he faces a daunting question—who should cut his hair?3 years ago I discovered barbershops. When I was young I simply went wherever my mother took me, which usually involved several perm stations filled with bluehairs. In college, I went to the salon near campus with stripper-caliber women who shampooed my hair with tenderness equaled only by Fantasies Providence. After moving out on my own I jumped between inexperienced pseudo-barbers, but never found the right fit.
While living in Boston’s northern suburbs, I happened upon a small barbershop on the corner of my street. An unimpressive 200 square foot room with two antique chairs and yet only one barber, Jumbo’s introduced me to a real barbershop. Fifteen minute, $12 haircuts, no shampoo and riveting sports commentary from a character straight out of the Sopranos was expected every time I walked in. A tiny black and white TV blurred with static played whatever sport happened to be on at the time. Six folding seats filled with locals waiting for their turn in the chair always provided conversation that made the wait fly by.
And that’s just the way I liked it until my wife and I decided to buy our first home and Boston’s housing costs forced me to leave Jumbo and his barbershop behind. My new neighborhood is full of SuperCuts and “designer” salons—I quickly became desperate for a barber to call my own.
One day while hacking my way through the mini-mall forest near my work, I noticed an intriguing sign behind a Newbury Comics; “Come in and enjoy an old fashioned facial.” Once I realized this wasn’t an adult film audition, I finally realized what I was looking at. The name, Fanara’s Tonsorial Parlor inspired thoughts of old-time shoppes where a man could get a shave and cut for under a dollar. Slightly larger than Jumbos (5 chairs and 3 barbers) the friendly banter, no nonsense grooming and an actual straight razor clean-up quickly made me realize I had found my hair Mecca.
Men (including a few members of this site) will argue that the experiences found at the stripper salons provide a more cleavage-filled experience. No amount of “accidental” boob brushes is worth a $30 haircut. If you want sweet-smelling women to rub up against you, you can get naked ones to do it for less than $30. Can you talk to Brandy about Pokey Reese’s inability to hit a baseball? Argue the effect of steroids on professional sports? Complain how your wife is nagging you to mow the lawn? All while paying only $15 (with tip)? The barbershop is the ultimate male hideaway, relaxing and a welcome refuge from the fairer sex. It’s one of the last places in the world that men can act like men and women dare not enter.
Get your hair cut like a man—go to a barber.