treinta de octubre

I had a visit to the barbershop this morning for a haircut, and then I realised I had not ever wrote about the barbershop I visit in a blog before. Well, to start of, I have been going to this same old barbershop for 10 years now. It had a little bit of refurbishing done half-way through this ten years and had this nice purple paint peeking out from the top of these almost full-length mirrors, followed by a wooden counter-top and a woody wall at the bottom. Also, besides that wall, the others were lemon-coloured and made the barbershop into a little retro, vintage-y room. The shop front was totally glass, with the name “Scissor Plus” and a Woody the Woodpecker holding a scissor sticker-ed on it and the door had this sweet little sign which said “Open, Come on in!” or “Sorry, Be Back Soon.”, which I found slightly humorous. I apologise for being fond of dry jokes. It is indeed dry.

That was just the layout of the shop, what interests me is the extensive collection of Coca-Cola bottles and cans and other merch that overlaid every space there is to be filled, the top of the mirrors, the counter top, the shelves too. I also fancy the other almost full-length mirror that lie on the opposite wall of the first one (above two retro couches or sofas, whatever you call it), which had an effect that looked something like this. The collection consists of the old and the new, my favourite one is the bottle that had a very twisty neck (its still filled with the drink, mind you, I dare not ask how old). So that’s pretty much my barbershop experience.

The barbers were nice too. I don’t know their real names so I called them (3 of them) the Spanish guy, Jerry Seinfeld and Chris Daughtry…look. Well, they’re all Malays but their looks just seem so different. The Spanish guy always wore a tight fit tee, jeans and those leather shoes, and because of his tan skin tone, he looked kinda from Latin America or something and had that serious but devilishly handsome face.  Chris Daughtry…look is this guy who had was bald, and slightly plump, slightly, wore spectacles and had a nature moustache. He always wore a white tee and jeans and he would always remember me as Mr.Forgetfulness. Why? Well, I always left my spectacles(when I was younger) at the shop after my cut, and at about late evening I ran down to fetch it. Last but not least, Jerry Seinfeld, well, not the real deal, but they look so alike. Except the barber wore spectacles and had a moustache-sideburns combination, that’s all, and he wore a regular t-shirt and jeans combination too. We usually have short conversations and they recognise me immediately as I walked in, well, they’re quite frank and sinere about it.

So anyways, I was being attended(right word in this context?) to by Chris Daughtry…look and we had a trimming session, and I did ask him not to make those ugly straight line sideburns. So we were talking and cutting(well he was the one doing most of the cutting) and it was about a 15-20 minutes session. And whil I walked home, I pulled a few strands of hair from my fringe. My fringe. What about my fringe? Hm… they’re black and long. Long. LONG. It looks like I didn’t tell him to cut the fringe, man, CUT THE FRINGE. While I was in there, happily chatting, he cut my sideburns, liked I told him to, nicely, and he cut my hair (top and back) like I told him to, but he missed the fringe. Why couldn’t I just told him to cut the stupid fringe.

Note to self : Tell barber to cut fringe.