The relationship that a man develops with his barber is not in vain. The relationship is intimate…read more As a kid, you grow up with the same guy cutting your hair for 15 years. As an adult, your barber becomes your eyes and ears to the world, sharing his knowledge of current affairs, politics, women, the local neighborhood's gossip (yesmen can gossip sometimes). Your barber is far more than the guy who cuts your hair. He's your friend. Your confidante.
These barbers know how to cut your hair, they've seen it change. They've seen it grow curlier, more abundant, grayer, less abundant. They adapt to changes in style and fashion, but they never cease to give you a bad haircut.
Changing barbers is a tough choice for a number of reasons. When you do it out of choice, you feel disloyal. When you do it out of obligation, you feel anxious and afraid.
I haven't lived in the same city for more than 5 years in the last 15. So I forgot what it's like to have a good barber anymore. One that I can trust.
So I hadn't gotten my hair cut in over a month which, if you know me, is an extremely long time. My hair grows extremely fast and it fros out. Which is NOT in anymore. Especially when your hair looks like mine.
Talked to some coworkers. No one had any firm suggestions. They pointed me to a street and told me to find one there. Instantly knowing Stockholm, its fashion and its prices, I feared the worst. I knew I was going to get a shit haircut and pay $100 for it.
Then I spotted Salong Andreas. It was not a salon, but a barber. I walked in ten minutes before it closed. A gentleman came out from behind a curtain. Good-looking guy and well-kempt (knows good fashion), darker skin, thicker hair, probably Middle-Eastern (knows my hair), and the sign read 210kr ($35). Couldn't believe it. It almost seemed too good to be true. But he didn't cut my hair yet.
So he talks to me about my hair. Asks me how I want it. As I start talking, he nods. Then he proceeded to complete my sentences exactly as I would've. He knew exactly what I wanted. And unlike my barbers from the last 15 years, didn't give me that completely clueless, stumped look that I've come to expect. I was putting my life in this guy's hands, and I didn't doubt it for a second.
Ephram (his name) gave me the best haircut I've had in two decades. He did it with style and finesse. He was a master of his trade. He used scissors like my childhood barber from Italy did. He was fast and he made it look effortless. He asked me how it was as he was going through, and he was one of the best conversationalists I've known. We talked about our heritage, Sweden, the US, Arabs, 9/11, Christians (he's a Lebanese-Christian and I'm an Egyptian-Christian), Swedish women, cost of living, etc. etc. etc. I could actually see going out and grabbing beers with this guy as totally normal and fun.
When it came time to pay, I realized I didn't have enough. He told me not to sweat it, pointed me to the nearest ATM, I ran down, grabbed my cash, came back, paid, and told him that he was my new barber and that he could expect to see me every three to four weeks. Thanks Ephram! You rock!
