haircut

I just had the best haircut ever.

I’m in Manhattan this week for work, and on my way from the customer I’m working with to my hotel, I was accosted by a very friendly black guy who wanted to give me a haircut.

Now that sounds pretty wierd, but he was standing in front of a barber shop (Diamond Cut Salon and Barber Shop‎), and wanted to direct me inside. Unfortunately, I was carrying my large duffel and computer bag, and really wanted to get checked-in to the hotel I’m staying at so that I didn’t have to schlep 60 pounds of stuff around with me anymore.

After chatting with him for a minute, I told him that if he were still there in 20 minutes, they could give me a haircut (which I was in pretty desperate need of).

When I got back (it was only two blocks), he was heading upstairs with another gentleman who was starting to look a little shaggy. I followed him up, and sat down in the first available chair.

To get an idea of the layout of this place, you need to realize that it’s on the third floor of a building that also has a tattoo and piercing parlor on the second floor. The barber shop has at least eight chairs, and plays R&B and hiphop music loudly, but not so loud you can’t hear the guy (or girl, in my case) talking to you about what you want done to your hair.

I get my head shaved about once a month. The place I typically go in Cary won’t take a straight razor to anyone’s head like the place I used to go in Burlington did, but they get pretty close with trim buzzers.

When I asked for my head shaved here in NYC, the girl verified I wanted it bald – and then buzzed-off all my hair (a great start). Then she pulled out what at first felt like a palm-sander (it was an electric shaver, but didn’t feel like one 🙂 ) and proceeded to remove the stubble on my head.

“Great!” I thought – a place that will give you a shave when you ask for one! But she wasn’t done.

After shaving my head completely (so well that I couldn’t tell where my hair had been), she asked if I wanted my beard trimmed. I figured, “why not – I’m here”, so I said yes.

She deftly took a straight razor to sharpen the edges of my “Abe Lincoln”, as a guy at work calls it, and then trimmed it down with a buzzer and attachment. This was great – now, in addition to my head having a look I like, my slightly-ragged beard was sharpened and smoothed. But she still wasn’t done.

Before she finished, she took that palm-sander, which I now knew to be an electric shaver, and gave me a full shave – other than the now-sculpted beard line.

Let me tell you: if you’ve never had someone else give you a shave on your face, it’s a pretty wierd sensation – but was just about perfect in just a couple minutes.

Start-to-finish, I was there for under 30 minutes. If you’re ever in Manhattan, strolling down the east side of 8th Ave from 40th towards 39th – and you need a haricut – head on upstairs to this true gem of the city.