10-07-2021, 02:34 AM
WW
This startlingly realistic video triggered my PTBS* so I had to stop watching at the 0:44 second mark when they showed a barber shop window sign announcing "We Specialize in Flat Tops".
That's because circa 1958 my so-called local barber refused to give me a flat top because, he said, the shape of my head was "wrong". Imagine the psychological damage that flippant remark had on a 10-year old boy. That plus the mandatory slapping on of Lilac Vegetal traumatized my relationship with hair until finally, decades later, a merciful Deity freed me from the tyranny of hair.
* PTBS = Post Traumatic Boomer Syndrome
This startlingly realistic video triggered my PTBS* so I had to stop watching at the 0:44 second mark when they showed a barber shop window sign announcing "We Specialize in Flat Tops".
That's because circa 1958 my so-called local barber refused to give me a flat top because, he said, the shape of my head was "wrong". Imagine the psychological damage that flippant remark had on a 10-year old boy. That plus the mandatory slapping on of Lilac Vegetal traumatized my relationship with hair until finally, decades later, a merciful Deity freed me from the tyranny of hair.
* PTBS = Post Traumatic Boomer Syndrome
10-07-2021, 06:51 AM
Hans this was yet another entertaining short film you’ve presented to the forum. Thank you! My experience with barber shops began in the early 1960s, so all my memories are in color 
My Dad was generally the one who took me for a haircut, once in a very blue moon it was my grandfather. Frankly, if my fading brain power remembers correctly, my Mom took me to the barber no more than two or three times tops. Then by the time I was about 10 or 11 years old I went by myself - either by bus or bike. It was great fun! Comic books, candy, being in the “men’s club,” all of it. The Playboy magazines were “hidden” in a pile on a table in the back of the shop. I remember the first time as an adolescent I no longer had to climb onto the booster seat. It felt like I’d arrived! The smell of stale smoke, leather, Clubman, hot lather, still permeate my burnt neurons. The one detail that differs was the absence of multiple chairs and barbers in the shop. Where I grew up there were always at least 3 to 6 barbers on duty at any given time.
The whole barber shop experience of my youth was brought back by this short film. Thanks very much.
My Dad was generally the one who took me for a haircut, once in a very blue moon it was my grandfather. Frankly, if my fading brain power remembers correctly, my Mom took me to the barber no more than two or three times tops. Then by the time I was about 10 or 11 years old I went by myself - either by bus or bike. It was great fun! Comic books, candy, being in the “men’s club,” all of it. The Playboy magazines were “hidden” in a pile on a table in the back of the shop. I remember the first time as an adolescent I no longer had to climb onto the booster seat. It felt like I’d arrived! The smell of stale smoke, leather, Clubman, hot lather, still permeate my burnt neurons. The one detail that differs was the absence of multiple chairs and barbers in the shop. Where I grew up there were always at least 3 to 6 barbers on duty at any given time.The whole barber shop experience of my youth was brought back by this short film. Thanks very much.
Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)