Foil? Ha! Hand Me My Epee!
May 08 '00
Among the many lost arts in the MTV Age is, sadly, shaving. There are the adjustable trimmers (sounds like a pop group composed of politicians, doesn't it?), which allow the maintenance of that oh-so-attractive days-of-stubble, Arafat look. There are the weed-whacking electrics, whether foil or rotatory (if you can't cut it, pull it up by the roots). And there are safety razors.
In short, don't waste your money on either sort of sheep-shear.
Look, I know darned good and well that I am not going to gain any converts to the oldfashioned straight razor. (Bill Clinton has probably outlawed them by now anyway.) And for many of us neurotic writer types, Doctor won't let us have them anyway, here in the 'rest home.' But let me at least enter a plea for the edged blade.
There is an increasing loss of the pleasures of ritual in the modern age. (What do you think was behind that appalling new Anglican prayerbook in the '70s?) It is coupled with a burgeoning sense of rush and hurry. Man used to be the servant of Truth and the master of time; now, he is time's puppet, yet believes himself capable of reordering objective truth. (And yes, I know, only a conservative could discern the Fall of the Republic in the advent of the rotary shaver.)
Yet the fact is that there are few pleasures to equal a good shave.
I am just old enough - and enough of a furball: since, um, a relatively early age, ahem, all the hair that seems to have left the crown of my head has migrated elsewhere upon my carcass - to remember that height of luxury, the shave-and-a-haircut. (And mind you, this was as recently as 1981 through 1984.) The razor-cut haircut. The shoeshine. And the soothing ecstasy of a masterful shave, there in the barbershop chair, with hot towels and Parma violet, and the expertly-wielded straight razor.
The two best shaves of my life, in fact, were in downtown St Louis, about halfway between the Federal Building and Famous Barr, and in DC, at a little barbershop around the corner from the Hotel Washington, across from Woodie's (Woodward and Lathrop). Nothing equals the smoothness, the facial cleansing, and the sense of sheer luxury like a razor shave.
And something very like this can be achieved at home, any morning, even with a safety razor. (Though I think the Mach 3 overdoes it: as I once heard a fellow note on NPR, it's one thing to cut and clip the foliage, but mulching is over the top.) The steamy water; the badger-hair brush; the shaving soap; the brisk but friendly bracing of bay rum; the urbane sensation of shaving talc; and - if you're feeling exceptionally high cotton - a light wax of the mustache, and you are ready to face the day as Grandfather did. (Minus the Burma-Shave signs by the roadside, alas.)
But of course, there's more to it than tradition. Despite the claims of the power-shear people, it is the blade that can be relied upon anywhere, anytime. I've shaved often enough - and well enough to pass inspection - with cold water in a helmet. (Dear old Benning....) And the whole process of the 'wet' shave is more than merely dandified or conservative: it is, gentlemen, the greatest favor you can do the skin of that mug of yours. Those of you who have better luck than I in getting close to the ladies (who, if the wizards of MadAve are to be believed, spend their days waiting, with bated breath and in skimpy outfits, to barge into the bano and sensuously stroke that manly jawline: these things never happen to me, but then, I don't look like the guys in the commercials, either) may find that useful.
Be that as it may, I can tell you from wide experience that I have yet to encounter a really satisfactory rotary, foil, or any sort or condition of battery-op shaver; and that even were I to do so, you would be hard pressed to get me to abandon the tradition, comfort, and cherubic jowls (and as forty approaches I am getting definitely jowly) the blade has afforded me over the years.
Anyone need to borrow the styptic pencil?
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mshawpyle
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Member: Markham Shaw Pyle, JD
Location: Houston, Texas
Reviews written: 539
Trusted by: 391 members
About Me:
Historian, baseballing bon vivant, Boll Weevil, W&L man; and the Walter Mitty of field sports
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