I hate having my hair cut. It is a chore which looms up at me slowly, like mowing the lawn or finding out about Spinoza.
My previous regular hair-cutting haunt was abandoned when I was treated to a flow of invective against Jews as my neck was being brushed off. Since then I have been wandering the barber shops of central Dublin, trying to find the person who will get my hair just right, for less than €10.
Good luck has smiled on me- just behind Smithfield, on Blackhall st. a new Barber Shop has opened. The Polish lady running it makes some, but not too much, small talk about the weather. She does not ask any questions about my life. The radio is tuned to Lyric FM. The price is €8 (we can call it €10 with tip) and my wife likes the resulting fringe.
All my needs are met.
And before I hear from any female readers about the woes of the €100 hair- cuts they must endure, I can also tell you that the Polish lady has started doing ladies haircuts for €20.
Hurry on down.
1 Comment
I too have a new(ish) barber. The walls are adorned with posters from good blues and rock gigs from the last 30 years, the radio is rarely (if ever) tuned to a pop-tastic station. The fact that the boss is a fellow ex-northsider living in the South East and is a martial arts practitioner as well is the bonus and makes the banter interesting.
There really is something very important in finding the right tonsurectomist to let loose on your barnet. There must be a strong level of trust, the right level of banter (too much is noise and piffle, too little and you fall asleep and wake up looking like BA from the A-Team), and the price needs to be acceptable.
Personally €15 for a good haircut, a good chat with nice music and a cup of tea of a Saturday sets me up for cutting the grass.