To Impress or to Mullet.
I have to admit that I have thought about the scenario a few times and have always wondered what I would do if it came to it. Running through the events in my head of all the steps I'd take if the stylists, barbers, groomers and scissor-capable people were to flash out of existence. I feel that I could probably last a bit longer than most.
In my experiences, I have built a semi-sturdy shelter. I know how to start a campfire without matches. I can fish. I have even watched all the Youtube videos as well as a few episodes of the show 'Survivor' to be able to set traps for small game if it came to it. What I mean to say is, what would happen if, say, we were thrust into a situation where we suddenly were without professional groomers. Much like Tom Hanks in 'Cast Away', Matt Damon in 'The Martian', those characters were miles away from a barber. Tom had the blade of an ice skate. Matt had a eight thousand dollar pair of NASA scissors. Tom and Matt started trimming the mop on top of their heads. Their appearance didn't matter to them. I braced myself with that thought.
In college, I was there to get a higher education and to figure out what kind of person I was going to be… not to impress. Did I tell you that it was the Eighties? There was a lot of impressing going on.
That imagery took me back to how I used to look in those days. My Freshman year, I tried to keep my hair short. But failed. My thought at the time was, "well, I'll just wear a hat.” My hair didn't want to cooperate as it grows ‘out’ not ‘long’. Besides, there wasn't a hat big enough for all that hair.
As I was coming home for the Christmas break, I realized that my last haircut was when I was home for Thanksgiving. My solution was to style it in a perm. My hair had already grown out enough. It had natural curls anyway. Who would really notice the new style? All I would have to do was get up in the morning, take a shower and shake it dry before heading to class. No muss, no fuss and let the curls fall where they may.
In my scrapbook and photo albums now, there are pictures of friends and family with a huge Q-Tip standing beside them. I wouldn't really like to go back to that style, but if the world suddenly found itself without its barbers, that would be the way to go.
All of that to say, one day, my wife handed me a small package in an Amazon box recently. “What’s this?” I asked. “It came in the mail. It’s an early Father’s Day present.” Inside, there was a brand new electric groomer with eight or nine different attachments. After reading the instructions and charging the clipper for 24 hours, I used a couple of the accessories to get at some old growth ear hair, and then put it away in the closet.
To be honest, electric groomers were not anything I wanted or expected. I'm a razor blade kind of a guy and I don't much like the thought of getting older and dealing with hair in places where there shouldn't be hair. A week later, my wife asked if I was going to use my Father’s Day gift. “You know, your barber shop won't be open for a few more weeks. Why not use your trimmer?” I had no excuses. My mind immediately went to the ‘Big Mess’ excuse. “With all this hair, I'd make a big mess.” I said. “Well, why don't we go outside in the backyard?” She definitely said ’We.’ “You mean, you would help?” I asked, hoping she'd say no. “Sure.” Grumble.
About twenty minutes later, there were several piles of salt and pepper hair on the backyard patio. My hair didn't really look much different from the way I usually have it cut, but I wondered how many brown-gray, curly birds nests in my neighborhood that now look like they need a haircut.
