My father, being of sturdy farming stock, felt he displayed frugal and self-sufficient values.

Except for his cigarettes, and his love for all things Sony - I felt he was one cheap bahstid.

He tried to cut the hair of all his male progeny.. and traumatised us for life.

Failing that, he would later send us to arguably the worst and most-hamfisted barbers extant.

Pops, drinkin' buddies and barbers who need steady hands......

The stuff of pain and nightmares.

My brothers now cut their own hair, and I, not trusting my unsteady hands and myopic eyesight, go very long periods between barbershop visits.......

My salt-and-peppered high-density afro needed to be civilized so .. it was time to go Brooklyn for an expert cut.

In NYC, the black barbershops are pretty much divided by language and culture.

Ive been to Dominican and Boricuan (Puerto Rican) shops. These guys LIKE close, razor-edged trims.
Aiyah.
Week old razor burns make me loath to go back, no matter how much Domicans might really like us Jamaicans.
I prefer the muy beautiful Dominican women over the barbers, thank you....

British West Indian barbers all share the hearty patois and their slow, careful attention to detail.
They spend a long time to make sure your haircut is righteous.
A matter of pride, you know.
Clipper, trim, clipper, scissor trim, edge, scissor trim, razor edge, talc, and a finishing scissor trim.

Before you know it, those two hours have just FLOWN by.

AND if you dont use the mirror to check and make sure that job is flawless, and then genuflect in sincere appreciation for the 2 hour effort.......

Oy.

Wears you out.

This is why I now prefer to go the Haitan places.

Somehow, they give quick, flawless clipper cuts.. using scissors only to smooth and edge.. and none have ever laid a razor on me.

No muss, no fuss.

If only my father had learned to cut like this.
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