Some trimmings from my tonsorial adventures

by Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

The human hair grows from cradle to grave. The need to maintain its length existed since the beginning of time. Two statuettes from the Ice age dated 30,000 BC called the Venus of Willendorf and Venus of Brassempouy, show features of hairstyling and braiding. The earliest record reaches back to the bronze age when they used sharp instruments to resize the hair. Hair cutting and styling were well established in Egypt and Ancient Greece. Barbering evolved further until the Middle Ages when religious clergy took on this work.

With the haircutting, they encroached on human surgical procedures and also dentistry, pulling out teeth. Apparently, this shocking practice went on for six centuries. As the disastrous results of human surgery became commonplace, news of its tragic consequences reached the Vatican. This barbaric practice was then banned by a Papal decree. Thankfully barbering and surgery went their separate ways, never to meet again. In the 21st century hair cutting and styling is a prestigious occupation. Nowadays, it is done with great care and consideration for which they charge a small ‘fortune’.

The hairdressing world is renowned for its gloss and glamour. The Salons are mostly unisex. The modern salons and the industry have evolved to care for the lady’s hair which they do with great expertise. With the variety of services available for the ladies that is where the salons make their money. Men’s hair is mostly confined to a haircut. Hence doing men’s hair is just a job that needs doing and is never as lucrative to the Salons. For vanity or sanity, it is the youth of today that keep the barber shops in business.

My earliest recollection of a hair cut goes back to the late 1940’s. I was living with my grandparents in Nugegoda which was then a small town. As a five-year-old, I held on tightly to my grandpa’s hand as he walked me along High-Level Road. I was curious but also unhappy. Grandpa bought me some sweets. The barber shop was a tiny shack with a revolving door.

I can still recall the rapid clicking of the barber’s scissors and the sights and smells of that small salon. I was bitten by hordes of bed bugs and returned home itching, the back of my thighs having turned into angry red blisters. We never went there again.

Much of my school years were spent ‘incarcerated’ in the college boarding. In those days school rules were harsh and draconian. Long hair was taboo. The haircuts were done by a visiting barber. This was performed in the open air on a Wednesday, after school, in the cycle shed. We wrote our names in his book which gave us the ‘batting order’. The barber was a law unto himself. He never asked any questions and cut the hair as he wished. We could recognise his handiwork easily as all the boarders had ‘military’ haircuts showing the scalp that glistened in the sunlight.

I was a medical student at the Faculty of Medicine, Colombo, in the 1960’s. Money then was tight. The parental monthly remuneration was never enough. In those distant days Punchi Borella was a place for the trainee barbers to perfect their skills. This was performed under the shade of a spreading Banyan tree. There was a generous offer of a free haircut to those who dare.

The victim had to hold the mirror himself to see their handiwork. The crows above were a menace. The customers and the barbers were constantly bombarded with their excrement. Some said, “the crows provided the Brylcreem”. The clicking of the scissors was their sign that action has begun. They hadn’t yet mastered the use of the scissors and the razor. If you walk out with your ears intact you’ve done well. Although I was greatly tempted to try my luck to tide over the financial crisis, I didn’t want my hair vandalised. Good sense prevailed but I remained an occasional spectator of this amazing spectacle.

During those busy years as a medical student an elderly betel-chewing barber in Borella came to my rescue with budget haircuts. Always with a mouthful of betel he did not speak much. Despite his silence he had the ability to radiate friendship and kindness with a broad smile showing off his red coloured mouth and stained teeth. Squinting through his small circular glasses he added some elegance to my hair.

Sadly, his days ended when he developed mouth cancer when I was in my final year. I felt the shock deeply. The old man’s demise detonated my finances only to be rescued when I received my first pay as a medic.

Hairdressing is not an easy profession. They have to be psychologists to understand what the client wants. “I want it short” could mean many things. Getting the message wrong can be disastrous to the client and the hairdresser. To my great delight barbers are inveterate talkers. Usually, its idle chitchat. When their hands are busy their tongues are hardly ever still. This can get them into serious trouble too.

My current barber once worked for an upmarket lady’s hair salon. He did a haircut and colouring for a posh lady with ‘difficult’ coarse black hair. At the end of the process the lady wasn’t happy with the final result. She refused to pay and made an awful lot of noise about it. This angered the hairdresser. He blurted out the well known aphorism “I’m only a hairdresser, not a magician, so please lower your expectations.” This upset the lady. The hairdresser had to leave his job.

After I emigrated to the UK I lived in Wood Green in North London. In the 1970’s this was the enclave of Greek Immigrants. I went to the local Greek barber in town. He was a kindly, verbose, elderly man who chatted incessantly about his childhood in Athens. He recalled the hustle and bustle and the good times growing up in that ancient city.

The barber had a multitude of medical complaints from pain in his brain to bleeding piles. He asked for my views of the diagnosis and treatment for his diverse conditions. While I tried to make sense of his many health problems, he took good care of my hair. Although I paid full fare for his services, he got his medical advice free of charge.

For over three decades I lived in the leafy suburb of Letchworth in Hertfordshire. In this quaint little town, I went to an Italian barber. He was in his early forties and spoke English with a charming Italian accent. He was a walking encyclopaedia of Roman history.

His detailed descriptions and wonderful narratives brought to life the grandeur and the many tragedies of Roman history. I still recall his stories most fondly. He charged me for the hair cut but the lessons in history were complimentary.

After retiring from all professional work, I returned to live in London. I have used many barbers in the city. The nearest was an émigré from Hong Kong. After the former British colony went back to Mainland Chinese control some residents were unhappy. My Chinese barber expressed his displeasure about the politics in his country and swivelled the scissors aggressively as he lost his temper.

My other barber is an Egyptian who had similar issues about the Middle east and the plight of the Palestinians. A hair cut is a good time for an exchange of views. I have always been a good listener not wanting to upset the barber with my personal views. After all the barber had all the necessary implements to cause serious damage to anyone crossing his path.

Many hair dressing salons in the UK provide a special dispensation for senior citizens. They are offered discounted haircuts. I have made use of this privilege often. On one occasion I found that my usual hairdressers were busy. I ventured further to find a large salon in a posh part of the city. As I stepped in, I was simply mesmerised by its elegance. This was the crème de la crème of hair salons.

The guy who ushered me in said this was a one stop beauty shop providing cuts, colour and styling complete with hair and facial massage and also a blow dry. He said the price starts at £100. This was a far cry from my usual £15 no frills haircut. He showed me the seat where I would be indulged and pampered for an hour. The chair was fit for a Prince. The hairdresser wasn’t surprised to hear from me that I was a pensioner in search of a cheap haircut. He politely ushered me out into the afternoon sunshine. It was much later that I learnt this was a flagship salon frequented by the rich and famous.

The Covid-19 epidemic hit us all like a tsunami. With the lockdown we were housebound for months. As all human gatherings and meetings were discouraged. Barber shops were closed for business. Many electric shavers, cutters and trimmers were sold on the internet for would be DIY barbers. There were detailed visual instructions on YouTube how to cut your own hair with an electric hair trimmer.

I viewed many of them and bought a machine but lacked the courage to use it on myself. A wrong move can have such ominous consequences!! The task to keep my hair under control fell to my dear wife who did so without much coaxing or complain. I had the traditional short back and sides with a trim at the top, in my garden, under a blue sky and a gentle breeze.

Hairstyles have played a significant role in men’s fashion, changing and evolving with the passing of time. The side parting and the crew cut of the early 20th century gave way to many variations and to the more recent spiky hair. With all the past trends and modern innovations, we must find the perfect hairstyle that suits us. Unlike for the lucky ladies, for us men hair cutting will always remain a necessity until the end of our lives. After all, when the hair stops growing nothing ever will matter anymore!!