Sideburns

I had always had a good pair of sideburns. Ever since I had been old enough to grow them properly, I had cultivated a good set of burns that extended to the bottom of my earlobes. I experimented with different hairstyles, but my burns always remained the same - down to the lobes, and flared out slightly at the bottom into a kind of "anvil" shape.

My friend at university, Andy, also had sideburns which he grew to the same length as mine. Andy had thick, wavy blond hair, so his sideburns grew more quickly than mine and appeared more luxuriant. We often compared our sideburn growth, and advised each other on grooming tips. Andy normally got a #4 all over when he got his hair cut, which looked pretty good.

In our final year at university, we both took up part time jobs in a clothes shop in the city centre. By this time, I had my light brown hair dyed blond on top and spiked. I usually got a #3 clipper on the back and sides, and as always I had my beloved sideburns down to the earlobes and neatly groomed. One afternoon after work, I decided to go for a haircut. I had been thinking of getting rid of the spikes for some time, as they were quite difficult to maintain, but I wasn't sure.

I strolled up to the barbers' shop I normally frequented. Our jobs required us to wear a shirt and tie, as the clothes shop we worked in specialised in men's formal wear. I was glad to get out of work on such a warm day, and I loosened my tie and opened my collar button as I walked. When I arrived at the barber's I saw that it was not busy, indeed it was empty of customers, which was unusual as it was situated in a mall which led to a busy railway station and was normally very busy.

My usual barber, Pat, sat reading a newspaper. Pat was Scottish, in his mid-twenties, and had ginger hair spiked and dyed blond on top like mine, and pointed sideburns which ran the length of his face down to the jawbone. As I entered, Pat laid down his newspaper and got up.

"Alright, Dave," he smiled, dusting off his chair with a towel. I sat in the chair and Pat fastened a cape around my neck.

"What can I do for you today, pal?" Pat asked in his rich Glasgow accent, as he tucked a small towel into the back of my shirt collar like a bib.

"I'm not sure, Pat," I replied with a sigh. "I'm tired of these spikes, but I'm not sure what I want." "How about going a bit shorter?" suggested Pat, running his fingers through my hair. "I could trim the spikes down a bit for you, and maybe do the back and sides with a #2?"

I considered this for a moment, then said, "You know what, I think I'll just lose the spikes completely."

"OK, you're the boss!" grinned Pat. He oiled his clippers, and began to buzz my head with a #3 all over to begin with. A thrill came over me as the blond spikes cascaded over the cape. It felt strange, but I liked it.

When he was finished with the #3, Pat switched to a #2 and buzzed the back and sides. I liked what I saw in the mirror in front of me.

After this, Pat switched the clippers off, and asked me, "What about your sideburns, pal?" My heart thumped. I licked my dry lips, and said, "What do you suggest?"

"With a short buzz cut like this? I'd say get rid of them," he replied.

"OK", I said. I was stimulated by the thought of having my sideburns shaved off - I hadn't shaved them off since I grew them in high school, and the thought of being without them excited me in a masochistic sort of way.

"I'll run a #0 through them first, pal," said Pat, "then I'll finish them off with the cut-throat." His words ran through me like an electric shock. Cut-throat? I'd never been shaved with one of these before, and my curiosity was aroused (and that wasn't all).

Pat changed the clipper attachment, and began buzzing my sideburns. Goose-pimples stood out all over my body as he worked. When that was finished, Pat produced a cut-throat razor and a shaving brush. He set these down in front of me, and went over to a cupboard in the far corner of the room, from which he produced a white towel. He proceeded to soak the towel in very hot water from the tap in the basin in front of me, then he wrung it out and wrapped it around my face so that only my nose was left exposed.

The rush of heat was almost too much for me, and I found it difficult to endure. I could hear Pat stropping the razor, then preparing some lather in a bowl. He whipped off the hot towel, and began to apply the lather to my sideburns with a soft brush. He deliberately used strokes of the brush that ran against the grain of my beard, causing my sideburns to bristle.

Once my sideburns were coated in thick, creamy lather, Pat began to shave them off. His swift, deft strokes with the cut-throat were so skilful that I barely felt them. Soon my face was smooth and free of both lather and sideburns.

I gazed at my shorn reflection in the mirror, marvelling at how different I looked. Pat wasn't finished yet. He pushed my head forward onto my chest, and pulled my shirt collar back as far as it would go. Then he dabbed talc onto the back of my neck, and using the cut-throat he shaved the tapered neckline with great skill.

This done, the cut was complete, and I felt - and looked - like a new man. I paid Pat, leaving him a generous tip, and left for home.

The next morning several people in work remarked on my new look, telling me it suited me and I looked very-clean cut. At lunchtime, I called in with Andy to go out for a smoke.

Andy was amazed at my haircut.

"What happened to you ?" he exclaimed. "And where are those sideburns?"

I grinned and winked at him. "This is the new look," I said. "Short and neat from now on."

We went out into the backyard of the shop for a cigarette.

Andy nodded as he looked at my hair.

"Looks good, mate, I must admit," he smiled.

"What about you, then?" I smiled mischievously. "Would you consider a cut like this yourself?"

"Hmmm…I don't know. Seems a bit drastic. I might think about it though."

On the way home, I decided I was going to persuade Andy to go shorter. Over the next few days, I kept up the pressure on him. I bought a set of barbershop clippers and a cut-throat razor, planning to use them on my own hair and, if possible, on Andy's.

"You know, you could start by shaving your sideburns off," I suggested to him.

"No, no, my face would feel bare without them," he replied.

"That's what I thought too," I smiled, "but now I'm glad I got rid of them."

"Well…I'm getting a haircut at the weekend, I might think about it then," Andy conceded.

Monday morning came, and Andy came into work after his haircut. The difference was barely noticeable, except for the fact that he had got his barber to take his sideburns up to just slightly above the earlobes.

"You suit your sideburns that length," I remarked, "but you really should get rid of them." Andy thought about this, stroking his beloved burns.

"To be honest, Dave, I would think about it but I'm just afraid of what I'll look like if the barber makes a mess of things."

"A poor excuse!" I laughed. "If that's all that's putting you off, I'll do it for you myself. I have clippers and a razor back at my house, I'll do the lot for free."

Andy mused on this, and said, "OK, I'll give it a try."

"Good man!" I grinned, slapping him on the shoulder.

We agreed to go straight from work to my place that Friday. Andy was clearly apprehensive, as he smoked almost constantly as we drove home.

When we got to the house, I led him upstairs to the bathroom, where I had set out a chair and prepared all the equipment - clippers, towels, razor and shave foam.

Andy looked around and seemed even more reluctant.

"I'm really not sure about this," he mumbled, lighting another cigarette.

"Come on, big guy, you'll be fine!" I smiled. Andy sat in the chair awkwardly.

"This'll go a whole lot more smoothly if you relax," I said. "Take your tie off and open a couple of buttons."

Andy reluctantly removed his tie and opened his top three shirt buttons. I gave him a shoulder massage through his shirt to relieve the tension. When he was sufficiently relaxed, he stubbed out his cigarette, and I draped a towel around his shoulders like a cape. I rolled my shirt sleeves up, and oiled my clippers.

"How short are you going to go?" asked Andy.

"Number two all over, mate," I smiled. "And then I'll do your sideburns with the cut -throat."

I buzzed Andy's thick, golden locks with the #2 clippers, satisfied at the amount of hair falling onto the towel. When this was done, I gave him the hot towel treatment as I had received at the barbers'. I found this deeply exhilarating, and I got the impression Andy did too. Finally I finished off his neckline with the razor and talc as I had experienced at the barbers'.

The job done, I whipped off the towel. Andy looked in the mirror.

"Wow!" he exclaimed. "This looks great! Thanks, Dave, I'm so sorry I doubted you."

"No problem," I beamed. "Any time."

From then on, Andy came to me for a haircut once a month. He had always grown his sideburns back, and I always shaved them off for him. Eventually he became confident enough to be able to do the same for me…and we still do today.