My NY Haircut

Today I got a fade from a zombie-hair cutter. . . in Harlem. Now let me explain. I've had this idea for some years now that I needed to get my hair cut and a shave in a traditional barber shop. You know the type, a place with a red, white and blue spinning pole out front. Inside is an old barber who waves at his friends walking by and knows his way around a razor blade. I'm not sure why I've had this idea: perhaps it was an overdose of Sesame Street when I was a kid, but that is probably a story for another time.

So I decided this weekend that my hair had finally gotten completely out of control and I needed a cut. I figured, why not check this item off my "bucket list?" Now, here in NY, there are a lot of barbershops, so I decided to get a real authentic experience. I figured that the most authentic options would be either the Bronx or Harlem. After outlining my plan to Todd at lunch, he heavily encouraged me not to the Bronx, and slightly encouraged me not to go to Harlem. So, Harlem it was.

I caught the A train up to 125th street, up near the classic Apollo Theater, and put in my iPhone "barber." "Big D's Barber Shop" was a sure winner in my mind, but they were closed. Instead I quickly found "Jim's Barber Shop," and took a peek through the glass. Inside there was an older gentleman with no customers. This seemed like just the spot.

I went inside and asked for a haircut and a shave and the gentleman said sure so I sat down in the chair. He asked what I wanted so I said, "kinda spikey, kinda messy." He seemed to know what to do with that so he got out his tools then asked, "how do you want the sides, faded?" My last few haircutters have used words like "blended" when describing the sides, so I figured that it was about the same thing. I also knew that I probably didn't want a fade (although I wasn't exactly sure what a fade was), but I figured this was a different deal.

He threw a guard on a trimmer, and I took off my glasses to let him work. He turned my chair toward the street, and started working on my hair. Everything was going according to plan and I was smiling as my dream came true. Hair was falling all around me and I remembered just how much extra hair I had. I was glad to see it all go and have a clean new cut. I was thinking it was taking a while, but the guy (who called himself the Hair Doctor) let me know that he was taking his time to make it look real good since he didn't have any other customers.

About this time, he excused himself for a quick bathroom break. I threw on my glasses and took a glance at the mirror across from me. Were I a swearing man, I would have I released a string of profanity. I could see skin on the side of my head. I've never seen skin on the side of my head before. I was in the final stages of a fade. Worse than that, I still had a lot of hair on the top and looked like K-Fed.

He came back and I attempted to contain my despair. He began telling me how he had been cutting hair for 30 years and there wasn't anyone's hair he couldn't cut. He had my head and hair all figured out now, and this was a good haircut. "You can just feel it when you have a good haircut, you know?" he said. He reminded me that he came to the right place. Then he said this particular shop had been there since 1945 and was the oldest in Harlem.

Apparently when they filmed I Am Legend out here, they enlisted the help of the Hair Doctor and another guy to cut the zombie actor's hair. He said he got $600 a pop and bagged it all up for Locks of Love just because. About this time, he finished up and styled it up. Shortest hair I have ever had. . . particularly on the sides.

In all, I met a nice guy and had a quality haircut. . . just not what I was looking for. I also learned that sometimes you can safely remove items from your bucket list without doing them. Some things just aren't meant to be done. Luckily, my hair grows fast, and Macy's is having a sale on Ben Sherman hats (those go with a suit for work, right?)