Haircut
Obviously a noisy discussion has broken out pertaining to the relative worth of an individual as indicated by how his-or-her hair is cut.
I find myself pilloried as a cheapo skinflint for laying out $60 to have my hair done in a salon, whereas my brothers live-large pinching out $10.95-plus-tip patronizing haircut-mills.
I’ve yet to see where $60 is more cheapskate than $10.95.
I guess it’s because I’m not REPUBLICAN, and use a MAC, for crying out loud. Perhaps it’s my WRONG running-shoes, and WRONG breakfast-food, or my Honda snowblower and motorcycle (“I can still see that oily, black pillar-of-smoke towering above that ship”).
My first haircut, at Joe’s Barber-Shop in Erlton, probably cost less than $1.
I don’t remember exactly how much they cost until I started patronizing the shop myself, at which point they cost $1.
Back then you didn’t need an appointment.
You’d walk in and sit in the lobby, maybe one or two ahead of you.
Joe added a second chair shortly after I started, making two chairs.
You also had to hope the fire-siren didn’t go off at the Erlton Fire Department, in which case Joe had to drop everything and run across the street, as he was a volunteer.
Part of the drill was that you were slathered with Wildroot Creme Oil when finished.
Joe would comb in a front pompadour, which with Wildroot Creme Oil looked like the grill of a ‘49 Buick.
It apparently was part of the cherub-look — my parents were always trying to make me look like a cherub.
“Joe-the-Barber” was my hairman clear until we moved to Delaware, where of course we had to find a new hairman.
I don’t remember the name of the shop, for which I’m sure I’ll be loudly excoriated for failing memory; but I do remember a barber-shop in the middle of the east end of Fairfax Shopping Center (this is only Mitchell’s, but it should ring a bell — BONG).
It had glossy pebbled walls painted a putrid hospital green.
By then a haircut was $1.25 or $1.50.
Inflation was at work here.
Used to be you could buy a new car for $2,500 — in the ‘30s a new car might cost $700.
Now a new car costs $20,000 or more; often a lot more.
Part of that is gumint requirements: airbags and crash-testing, etc.
But most is inflation. Our TR250 cost $4,500 in 1968; the bucktooth-bathtub over $30,000. Take out maybe $1,000 for gumint requirements, and we’re talking about cars of maybe equal value.
Other hairmen weighed in beside Fairfax Shopping Center.
At Sandy Hill (it’s no longer Morning-Cheer, but the mansion-house is on the home-page) my hair was trimmed by Lowell Hildreth, head of the Sandy Hill kitchen-crew, and chief-cook.
Lowell gave me my first flat-top, a haircut I stuck with all through Brandywine.
Then I went to Houghton, where my hair was cut by a droll Christian with a tiny shop hard by (perhaps next to or in) Barker’s funky General-Store.
Barker’s tried hard to be funky; scented candles for the college-crowd.
The barber wanted to make us all look like zealots, but was under increasing pressure from the Beatles.
The Beatles (and Rolling Stones) were determining hair-length, which to the barber was too long.
He also was under pressure from the zealots that ran the college to quash long hair; since his bread-and-butter was college-students.
After college and moving to Rochester I first patronized a haircut-mill.
Never again! My haircut was lopsided. I looked like I’d been hit by a lawnmower.
The good people at the National Clothing Company tailor-shop, where I worked, recommended a barber on the tenth floor of the Lincoln-Alliance-Bank tower across the street.
They did a nice job, but were always trying to make me look like a bank-employee.
By then the charge was probably $6-$10.
I don’t remember when I switched to Golden-Razor; I may have continued patronizing Lincoln-Alliance even after I no longer worked in downtown Rochester.
It would have only been a matter of parking, which I could have done in Midtown Garage.
Or riding the bus downtown. Our dentist was downtown at first; and that was after the tailor-shop. (I remember getting a dental-hygienist all bent-out-of-shape because I was late. “You have to allow extra time taking the bus.”)
Golden-Razor was because I was tired of looking like a bank-employee.
I let my hair grow wild at first, but it looked too messy — imagine my mother’s hair growing wild; it’s her hair — wavy and full.
My stylist at Golden-Razor was Angelo; a booth-renter. He kept advocating a permanent.
Finally I tried it; and thought it looked great.
Angelo hung around for a while, but grew tired. I suggested he try being a letter-carrier at the post-office; and that’s what he did. So much for Angelo.
The Greek thug came aboard at Golden-Razor, also a booth-renter. Golden-Razor had three booths, but only two were occupied. I think the Greek thug came aboard before Angelo left; so that I was switched to the Greek thug when Angelo left.
I never really liked the Greek thug much; he seemed rather uncaring — at least compared to Angelo.
But he did okay, enough for me to keep patronizing the place even after we moved to West Bloomfield.
But only a little while. Golden-Razor was too far away.
A coupon was in the local pennysaver for “Hair Designers,” the salon owned by Joseph Cotteleer (“hairman”) in nearby Honeoye Falls.
So we tried it, and thereby switched; no longer patronizing far-away Golden-Razor.
“Hairman” is of course the owner of the shop. He’s also into ‘pyooters and radio-control model-airplanes, so we’re on a shared wavelength.
His wife Linda shared the shop with him; and did the shampooing and often the hair-setting.
I guess Linda is wife #2; and they get along fairly-well — despite the continual put-downs.
Linda is only 57 (I think Joseph is 65), but is the one with lung-cancer; so may soon expire.
Joseph has four chairs and rents at least two on the weekends.
My fear is if Linda dies, he retires and he sells the shop, I may have to move on to another hairman; which perish-the-thought may be one of his renters; who’s a blowhard.
Job-one at Hairman was probably about $40. Over the years it’s ratched up.
Whatever; I still can’t see 60 smackaroos as being skinflint compared to $10.95.
I find myself pilloried as a cheapo skinflint for laying out $60 to have my hair done in a salon, whereas my brothers live-large pinching out $10.95-plus-tip patronizing haircut-mills.
I’ve yet to see where $60 is more cheapskate than $10.95.
I guess it’s because I’m not REPUBLICAN, and use a MAC, for crying out loud. Perhaps it’s my WRONG running-shoes, and WRONG breakfast-food, or my Honda snowblower and motorcycle (“I can still see that oily, black pillar-of-smoke towering above that ship”).
My first haircut, at Joe’s Barber-Shop in Erlton, probably cost less than $1.
I don’t remember exactly how much they cost until I started patronizing the shop myself, at which point they cost $1.
Back then you didn’t need an appointment.
You’d walk in and sit in the lobby, maybe one or two ahead of you.
Joe added a second chair shortly after I started, making two chairs.
You also had to hope the fire-siren didn’t go off at the Erlton Fire Department, in which case Joe had to drop everything and run across the street, as he was a volunteer.
Part of the drill was that you were slathered with Wildroot Creme Oil when finished.
Joe would comb in a front pompadour, which with Wildroot Creme Oil looked like the grill of a ‘49 Buick.
It apparently was part of the cherub-look — my parents were always trying to make me look like a cherub.
“Joe-the-Barber” was my hairman clear until we moved to Delaware, where of course we had to find a new hairman.
I don’t remember the name of the shop, for which I’m sure I’ll be loudly excoriated for failing memory; but I do remember a barber-shop in the middle of the east end of Fairfax Shopping Center (this is only Mitchell’s, but it should ring a bell — BONG).
It had glossy pebbled walls painted a putrid hospital green.
By then a haircut was $1.25 or $1.50.
Inflation was at work here.
Used to be you could buy a new car for $2,500 — in the ‘30s a new car might cost $700.
Now a new car costs $20,000 or more; often a lot more.
Part of that is gumint requirements: airbags and crash-testing, etc.
But most is inflation. Our TR250 cost $4,500 in 1968; the bucktooth-bathtub over $30,000. Take out maybe $1,000 for gumint requirements, and we’re talking about cars of maybe equal value.
Other hairmen weighed in beside Fairfax Shopping Center.
At Sandy Hill (it’s no longer Morning-Cheer, but the mansion-house is on the home-page) my hair was trimmed by Lowell Hildreth, head of the Sandy Hill kitchen-crew, and chief-cook.
Lowell gave me my first flat-top, a haircut I stuck with all through Brandywine.
Then I went to Houghton, where my hair was cut by a droll Christian with a tiny shop hard by (perhaps next to or in) Barker’s funky General-Store.
Barker’s tried hard to be funky; scented candles for the college-crowd.
The barber wanted to make us all look like zealots, but was under increasing pressure from the Beatles.
The Beatles (and Rolling Stones) were determining hair-length, which to the barber was too long.
He also was under pressure from the zealots that ran the college to quash long hair; since his bread-and-butter was college-students.
After college and moving to Rochester I first patronized a haircut-mill.
Never again! My haircut was lopsided. I looked like I’d been hit by a lawnmower.
The good people at the National Clothing Company tailor-shop, where I worked, recommended a barber on the tenth floor of the Lincoln-Alliance-Bank tower across the street.
They did a nice job, but were always trying to make me look like a bank-employee.
By then the charge was probably $6-$10.
I don’t remember when I switched to Golden-Razor; I may have continued patronizing Lincoln-Alliance even after I no longer worked in downtown Rochester.
It would have only been a matter of parking, which I could have done in Midtown Garage.
Or riding the bus downtown. Our dentist was downtown at first; and that was after the tailor-shop. (I remember getting a dental-hygienist all bent-out-of-shape because I was late. “You have to allow extra time taking the bus.”)
Golden-Razor was because I was tired of looking like a bank-employee.
I let my hair grow wild at first, but it looked too messy — imagine my mother’s hair growing wild; it’s her hair — wavy and full.
My stylist at Golden-Razor was Angelo; a booth-renter. He kept advocating a permanent.
Finally I tried it; and thought it looked great.
Angelo hung around for a while, but grew tired. I suggested he try being a letter-carrier at the post-office; and that’s what he did. So much for Angelo.
The Greek thug came aboard at Golden-Razor, also a booth-renter. Golden-Razor had three booths, but only two were occupied. I think the Greek thug came aboard before Angelo left; so that I was switched to the Greek thug when Angelo left.
I never really liked the Greek thug much; he seemed rather uncaring — at least compared to Angelo.
But he did okay, enough for me to keep patronizing the place even after we moved to West Bloomfield.
But only a little while. Golden-Razor was too far away.
A coupon was in the local pennysaver for “Hair Designers,” the salon owned by Joseph Cotteleer (“hairman”) in nearby Honeoye Falls.
So we tried it, and thereby switched; no longer patronizing far-away Golden-Razor.
“Hairman” is of course the owner of the shop. He’s also into ‘pyooters and radio-control model-airplanes, so we’re on a shared wavelength.
His wife Linda shared the shop with him; and did the shampooing and often the hair-setting.
I guess Linda is wife #2; and they get along fairly-well — despite the continual put-downs.
Linda is only 57 (I think Joseph is 65), but is the one with lung-cancer; so may soon expire.
Joseph has four chairs and rents at least two on the weekends.
My fear is if Linda dies, he retires and he sells the shop, I may have to move on to another hairman; which perish-the-thought may be one of his renters; who’s a blowhard.
Job-one at Hairman was probably about $40. Over the years it’s ratched up.
Whatever; I still can’t see 60 smackaroos as being skinflint compared to $10.95.
posted by BobbaLew at 9:30 AM
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