An Old Fashioned Barbershop (with AI photos)

Going from urban to rural was a major adjustment, unleashing numerous changes in my life. In 1979, my family moved from Philadelphia to a small town in Virginia. My father wanted a change of pace. He grew up in a small town and missed the laid-back atmosphere.

After the move, I found the place to have a very different culture. My hair was long, thick, and wavy. It covered my ears completely, and I constantly pushed aside my long bangs so that I could see. I never thought much of it. Most boys at the time had longish hair. But in this area that did not seem to be the case. The town felt like time stood still, like we were back in the 1950s. The good ol’ days, as my father would say. Around here boys had short hair, girls had long hair. That was the way things were, the natural order of things.

I walked into Miss Rosalyn’s class on the first day of middle school.

“Daniel,” she called as she was taking attendance.

“Here,” I responded.

Miss Rosalyn heard me but she didn’t see where I was, so I put my hand up.

“Oh there you are! Your hair is so long I thought you were a girl!” she said with a smirk on her face. Some of my other classmates giggled.

 

I was embarrassed. The year was 1979, not 1947!

Why did long hair on a boy seem so unusual and strange around here? After all, my hair wasn’t even THAT long. Some boys at my old school had hair past their shoulders. I did not stand out in Philadelphia like I did here.

 

A few weeks later my parents commented that I need to get my haircut. It was about that time. Every other month or so I would go to a salon to get my hair trimmed. They never cut it short, just a freshen-up every so often. But in this town, it did not appear that there were any places like that to get a haircut. The salon in town made it very clear that they only cut women’s hair, and driving an hour out of town for a haircut was out of the question for my parents, especially with gas prices as high as they are. The closest place was a barbershop, and it would have to do.

 

I resented the idea of going to a barbershop, but I knew I had no choice. The thought of clippers shearing off my precious locks sent a shiver down my spine. Hopefully the barbers here could cut long hair.

 

I felt butterflies in my stomach as we approached the barbershop.

“Carla’s Clipper Cuts,” the sign said with big letters next to the striped old-fashioned barber pole.

“Keeping men sharp since 1947,” read the slogan below.

DING! We opened the door and walked in.

There were three barber chairs, all of which were occupied.

In the first chair was an old man with a high and tight flattop. The barber lathered up the back and sides of his head and slid her razor down it. Removing any stubble around his ears and neck. The men in the other chairs were getting crew cuts, the hair on the back and sides of their heads was being clipped so short that I could see their scalps. The barber proceeded to pull the hair on the top of his head up with a comb, shortening it with her electric clippers.

To my surprise, the three barbers were young women.

“Hi, I’m Lizzy! I’ll be with you in about 5 minutes,” one of them told me. I nodded and sat down.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The room rang with that sound of clippers removing hair, a sound that made me shiver.

 

That five minutes went by too slowly. All I could think about was how I would explain to them that I liked having long hair and only wanted a trim.

 

The barber, Lizzy, dusted off her freshly buzzed client. The slides have been shaved almost completely bald. And the hair on top was cut real short, so short that it stuck straight up like the bristles of a brush.

“Thanks, looks great as always,” he said as he paid and left. “See you in two weeks.”

 

After cleaning up the area, the barber turned the chair around and looked at me.

“I’m ready for you.”

Lizzy was polite, but was still unable to hide her disgust with my long hair, looking at my shaggy head disapprovingly.

“Wow you really need a good haircut!” she said as I sat down in the chair.

I tried to explain what I wanted, but she didn’t seem interested. She was very blunt.

“We only cut short clipper cuts around here. This is a traditional barbershop, not a salon,” she said to me with a smirk on her face as she began combing the tangles out of my hair.

Lizzy continued, “don’t worry, we’ll chop this mop of yours off and get these tangles taken care of. You’ll get a proper haircut.”

I wondered what she meant by that. But before I could ask, I saw her pick up a large pair of clippers and attach the blades to them.

“Click”

I wanted to say something but I felt frozen. All I could do at this point was hope for the best.

 

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

 

The clippers came to life, and I could feel the cold metal blades against my head, mowing my hair away like a lawn mower. With each pass my head felt lighter, and I could feel the cool air against my scalp. It sent a chill down my spine. She began buzzing the side of my head, and I could see large clumps of thick hair falling onto the cape. In a few minutes, all of the hair on the back and sides of my head was reduced down to 1/8th of an inch. It was so short that I could see my pale scalp beneath the crispy fuzz that remained of my hair.

Suddenly, the clippers stopped. She brushed all of the little hair off my scalp, and began combing the remaining long hair on top of my head. Then she grabbed a pair of scissors and started snipping away at the top. Clumps of hair started falling again. She would comb up a clump between her finger, snip away, and repeat. I couldn’t see how much hair she was cutting off the top, for she combed my bangs straight down, which covered my eyes and reached my nose. I felt the metal of the scissors near the top of my forehead.

 

Snip snip snip snip

 

The hair slid off my face, falling to the floor and clearing my view. The person looking back at me in the mirror was unrecognizable. The hair on top of my head was about an inch long, two inches at most. All that remained of the hair that had been covering my face seconds ago was a layer of short bangs cut well above the eyebrows leaving most of my forehead exposed, even when combed down. My ears were exposed for the first time in years, protruding from each side of my head with nothing to hide them. All I could think was, ‘I look like an elf’.

 

Lizzy continued snipping away with the thinning shears. ‘How much more hair are you going to cut??’ I thought to myself. She then picked up the clippers again and started blending the sides with the top.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

 

Soon afterwards she picked up the electric trimmers and started cleaning up the edges. She folded down one of my ears and buzzed all the little hairs hiding behind. It seemed that she was determined to make sure that not a single hair touched my ears. She then pushed my head down and shaved the little hairs on the back of my neck. It kinda tickled. The feeling sent another shiver down my spine.

 

The trimmers stopped, and Lizzy proceeded to dust off all the little hairs from my head.

“You don’t look like a little girl anymore!” she said to me giggling. That was true. I looked like a boy alright, but I still thought it looked ridiculous. It was really short – stupid short.

Noticing my discomfort, she continued.

“You actually look really handsome. I think boys look much better with short hair, and I’m sure you’ll find that most girls feel the same way,” she said, winking at me.

“Hopefully, I’ll see you in three weeks for your next haircut!” Lizzy said. “Would you like to book your appointment?”

I felt like I couldn’t say no at this point. What’s been done has been done. After all, there were no other options in this town.

We booked my next appointment, I paid, and then left.

When I walked out the door, I felt the cool breeze on my head for the first time since I was a little kid. It felt amazing. Although I hated it at first, I learned to love having a short crew cut. There were no more tangles, no more bedhead in the morning, and I looked much older and more mature.

More importantly, I learned that Lizzy was right: the cute girls in my class began to notice me after I cut my hair really short.

From that day onward, I’ve been going to my barber, Lizzy, to get my hair freshly buzzed every three weeks.