Toastmaster Tom Part 8 by Doug

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Toastmaster Tom Part 8: A Smooth Finish
I’m 58 now. I finally transitioned from a flattop to a short ivy league about a year ago because Dave informed me that my balding crown was making it hard to do anything other than an extreme horseshoe, which neither of us thought would play well with my business life. Dave designed something that looks very precise because he knows me and (objectively) it looks sharp, but I’m not in love with it like my flatties.

While I was writing this memoir, I wondered if any reader would believe that Toastmaster even made a home haircutting kit. I Googled it and lo and behold, eBay actually had the exact kit from my childhood shown for sale—in fact, there were three available. In a moment of ridiculous folly, I bought one. (As of this writing, I found another one on line complete with the instruction booklet—just google "toastmaster home haircutting kit vintage" and follow the link to the kit shown on worthpoint. com.) I just wanted to have this relic for myself—it held such strong memories of childhood and the start of my longing for a Toastmaster Tom look. When it arrived, I gingerly opened it—it felt like a time machine. I browsed the booklet and held the clippers in my hand. And then I wanted to turn it on and feel it vibrating in my hands like so many years ago.

I took it to the bathroom and plugged it in. When I slid the switch, it growled to life (not sure the last time anyone had put some mineral oil on those blades). As it warmed, the smell of oil and the electric motor was intoxicating to me. As I looked up in the mirror, I knew what I had to do: that thing I had fantasized about doing as a kid—putting the clippers to my own forehead and plowing through from front to back. Before reason kicked in, that is exactly what I did—center of my forehead, no guard, front to back. For a 60-year old appliance, it worked amazingly well. My hair parted like the Red Sea, leaving behind a slight shadow and nothing else. What a feeling! My heart was racing. No turning back now. Row by row, I eliminated everything on top, and then carefully went from right side burn around my head to left side burn, removing every hair in its path.

When I turned off the clippers and slowed down my breathing, I looked at the mirror. Not a bad look, I thought. Then I looked down at the mess. Even with my short ivy league, there was a big pile of hair on the counter and sink to clean up. Just like when I was 10 and first put these clippers to my own head, I had to de-hair the bathroom. Then I grabbed my coat and headed to see Dave.

When I came into the shop, Dave looked up from a customer and said, "Hey! Woah, what did you do?"

I said, "I started something I want you to finish," and sat down and grabbed a magazine.

When it was my turn, I sat in the chair and said, "I decided I was ready for a new look. I’m tired of watching other guys get scraped smooth, Today’s my turn."

He laughed. "I can do that. Sit back and relax and we’ll finish the look."

The steamy towel treatment felt even better than it looked. As soon as he wrapped my head, I was in heaven. Every nerve settled down. When he pulled it off, the breeze from the cooler air reminded me of going from a hot tub to a swimming pool as my pores contracted. The gel was warm and soothing. And then the scraping began. Carefully, gently, Dave removed every trace of hair from my head. He started from the forehead and completed the top over the crown, then switched to the sides and back. Another steamy towel came on for a few minutes, and then he wiped everything down. With the edge of that towel, he gently traced all surfaces, doing final touch-ups with the razor wherever needed. Finally, he applied a light oil and worked it into my scalp. From the mirror opposite, I loved what I saw. The ultimate clean and precise appearance was staring back at me. For the second time in my life, I remember sitting in a barber chair and thinking, there’s no going back.

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