I recently remembered a long extinct blog I kept during my freshman year at NYU before I transferred to the U of C. Through the magic of the Wayback Machine I was able to recover the posts, some of which are maybe worth reposting, now over four years later. Enjoy this haircutting story. After all this time, I still have no clue what to say to instruct a barber.
My hair had been getting a little on the long side and I felt a haircut was due. A friend of mine on my floor recommended a place in the East Village where I could get my hair cut for four dollars. I am of very limited financial means, so I jumped at the opportunity.
The "shop" is in fact a school for barbers called the Atlas Barber School. It's a shady, rundown place with broken tiles and dubious sanitation methods. It does, however, seem to attract a decent (in quantity) clientele. As I entered, the manager asked me what kind of cut I wanted - just a trim - and he pointed me in the direction of a guy who was in the process of shaving a black man's head. My barber was roughly my age and wore a white mock-turtleneck, low-hanging jeans, and a necklace. He said he'd be ready for me in a couple minutes...and then added in a whisper, "Hey, if my manager tells you to go to another guy, tell him you want me to cut your hair. I haven't cut long hair all day."
When it was my turn, he asked how I wanted it. I told him basically the same but just a little shorter - I liked it a little shaggy, I just didn't want hair in my eyes or a mullet in the back. He asked a few more questions I couldn't understand, and I said, "Yeah," quietly in response.
After cutting a single straight line in my bangs, he went to work on the back of my head. He asked if I wanted it round or square. I expressed confusion, and he said, "Oh I know! A natural back! Yeah, a natural back would look nice." I said it sounded nice.
He worked on getting a "natural back" for roughly 45 minutes. At some point, his manager/teacher came over and looked sternly at the job he was doing. They had a long conversation in some Slavic language, with the teacher speaking sternly and pointing out different parts of my scalp to him. The only words I could make out were, "natural back." After the manager was done scolding him, my barber translated for me. "Yeah, he said it's all right and it's going good."
Meanwhile, I listened to a man behind me talk about leather handbags for half an hour. "Gucci is #1. Coach is #2. Cause I'll tell you, when you see a Gucci, you KNOW it's real. Gucci is real unique. You know you're looking at a Gucci. Coach is #2 cause when you see a Coach, you KNOW it's real. I've seen some places, and you know, they make fake ones. And you know they're fake. I got this Gucci bag - it's supposed to be $500, but my girlfriend works at the store. I got it for $350." I wondered why he was getting a $4 haircut if he could afford $350 Italian goods. He then repeated the entire speech, only this time he added "like I said...." to the beginning of each sentence.
He went on to talk about problems with New York City living. "A lot of people are going south, you know, to Washington or Virginia. It's cheaper there. You need five jobs here. In the Bronx where I live, I'm paying so much. I mean, the rooms are big, but I live with rats. You know they say there are more rats than people in New York? More rats than people. They really ought to get some stuff down in the subways to take care of them. They've got this stuff - the rats eat it - chomp chomp chomp - and when they drink, it makes them explode. They need to get that stuff there."
The barber finally finished with my natural back and spent about 5 minutes with the top of my head. Then I paid my four dollars plus a one dollar tip and headed out. All-in-all, it wasn't a terrible haircut. It's way too short and sloppy and not what I asked for, but I guess it's not embarrassing.
It's also my half birthday today.
- February 12, 2005
