 |
| Cain’s Barber shop in Emporia, Virginia. (Click to enlarge) All images made with a Fujifilm X-E5 and a 16-55mm f/2.8 II lens. |
What made me think of them was the one I recently found on a corner in a small Virginia city. What caught my attention was the rotating barber pole. I decided to stop and photograph it. After I did so, I looked inside and saw that there were at least 10 barber chairs in a row, but only two occupied. What the heck, I thought. I’ll go in. I opened the wood and glass door, went in, made conversation with the men inside about old fashioned barber shop. Eventually, I asked if I could make some photographs.
 |
| There are a couple of more chairs out of sight to my right as I made this exposure. Notice the number of chairs on the left. This must have been one busy place in years past. I truly hope they never go out of business as getting one’s haircut in an old-fashioned barber shop is an experience every guy and boy should have at least once. (click to enlarge) |
Granting me permission, I made about a dozen exposures as well as carried on a conversation with the barber as well as one customer. Collectively, we lamented over the disappearance of these kinds of shops. I found it somewhat sad that only two chairs were occupied and the rest appearing to be rarely used, if ever.
There’s just something about an old-school barbershop that feels right, isn’t there? The steady buzz of the clippers, the sound of the barber sharpening his razor by sliding it up and down on that leather strop, that unmistakable aftershave smell and the kind of easy, back and forth conversation you just don’t find many places anymore. Long before anybody was arguing (mostly anonymously) online, guys were settling into those chairs and talking about everything under the sun—local news, national politics, family, work, you name it. It didn’t matter who you were or what you did, everybody had a voice, and just as importantly, everybody listened. It was face to face, man to man, not anonymously for which you didn’t have to take responsibility for what you said. In a lot of ways, it was the original social network—only better, because it was real.
The old barber shops weren’t just about talk—they mattered to the community, too. Most barbershops were small, family-run businesses that kept things local and personal. You knew your barber, he knew you, and chances are he knew your kids and maybe even your dad before you. And of course, out front was that classic red, white, and blue barber pole spinning away like a quiet little landmark. A lot of folks don’t realize it goes all the way back to the days of bloodletting—red for blood, white for bandages, blue for veins—but over time it became something more—a kind of welcome sign, letting you know there was a place inside where you could get your hair cut by someone you knew, talk among neighbors and enjoy the visit. When those shops disappear, it’s not just about losing a haircut—it’s like losing a piece of the neighborhood.
 |
| “Shave and a haircut—two bits!” How many of you remember that little ditty? (Click to enlarge) |
Now compare that to a lot of modern salons and it’s a whole different experience. They’re busy, loud, and kind of chaotic—men and women coming and going, music playing, stylists juggling appointments with all sorts of fancy tools and products. It’s efficient but it’s not exactly relaxing and it’s definitely not the place for a good conversation or building any kind of relationship. You show up, you get your cut, and you’re out the door. Nobody really knows you and honestly nobody has the time. You’re not “Joe who’s been coming in for 20 years”—you’re just the 2:30 appointment.
It’s time we rise up and save the old-fashioned local barbershop from extinction. In the last 53 years, only two barbers have regularly cut my hair. I had to change because we moved to a different city but since 1997, the same guy has cut my hair. There is history between us—no surprises, no bad haircuts, good conversation. Try to patronize them whenever you can and enjoy the relaxing experience.
There is one such barbershop here in town. Old frame building was the cashier's office for the town ice building. RF&P train brought ice to a shed there until the late 50's. At the end of the ice business, the office building became a barbershop. When the college expanded, the building was moved to the corner of an old shopping center. Functioned there for years until barber became too old. Now it is operated by Korean ladies. Time moves on. Good the old building has been retained. Along with the barber pole.
ReplyDeleteSounds odd but train cars brought ice to a distribution building in Richmond until the early 1970s.
It happens that I had just returned from getting a haircut when I saw this post. The lady who owns the 3-chair shop has been cutting my hair for 25 years. This morning I asked her about using razors to trim around customers' ears. She said that she'd been taught how to hone the straight razors with leather strops in barber school and had used them around the ears and on the nape of the neck for years. When she moved to Arizona in 1984, she found that none of the shops here still had razors and hasn't used them herself since then. It was only a couple of months ago that I realized that she had abandoned corded clippers and was using ones with rechargeable batteries. Shows how observant I am....
ReplyDeleteThanks for commenting, Bob. I noticed my barber of decades quit using a straight razor and strop about 6 or 7 years ago. He now uses a disposable razor. The other thing I miss is the ‘hot lather’ from the machine. Now, he just uses lather from a can. I always felt the best part of getting a haircut was having my neck shaved. Loved that part. ~Dennis
Delete