Mr Taylor by buzztob

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Mr Taylor
by
buzztob

For as long as I can remember, father had taken me to see Mr Taylor for my haircuts. Initially, we would go together, but for the past year, as I was now 12, he said that I was old enough to go by myself. So, every 3 weeks or so, I would be sent to Mr Taylor for one of his haircuts. The thing with Mr Taylor, is that he did not have a shop on the high street. He operated out of a brick building by the side of his house. There were two rules regarding Mr Taylor. The first, if the side gate to his house was fastened back, then he was in the building cutting hair, if it was closed, then he was closed. The second, you were never asked how you wanted your hair cut. It was up to Mr Taylor to decide what was going to happen and, as his rant was always, the shorter the better, you could always tell a boy who had paid a visit to Mr Taylor.

Inside of the building, it was rather plain. The floor was concrete, there were a couple of windows on the side, an electric wall heater, a couple of overhead lights, a rather large barber’s chair, a counter top with all his haircutting equipment lined up and, a large mirror fitted directly in front of the chair. Just as you entered the building, there were a couple of plastic chairs for waiting customers.

I would normally be sent for a haircut on a Friday after school so I don’t know what days Mr Taylor cut hair, but I do remember going with my father on a Saturday morning and having to wait ages to get a haircut.

It was a Thursday night, I noticed that my father must have been to see Mr Taylor, as his hair was brutally short. He reminded me that it had been a while since I had paid a visit to Mr Taylor, so I should go and see him the next day. I really dreaded those days. I would turn up hoping that the gate would be closed, but it never was. On entering the building, there would normally be a couple of other boys waiting to receive one of Mr Taylors specials.

That Friday, I entered the building and there was no one waiting. Mr Taylor was just finishing off cutting a lad’s hair. I recognised him from my school. He was a few years older than me and always had his hair really cropped. He had fair hair, and from a distance, you would think that he was bald, but as you got closer, you could just make out the very fine stubble on his head. Mr Taylor said hello to me and continued to brush the lad down and remove the cape. As the lad got up, he looked at me and said to Mr Taylor that he thought I would look good with my hair cut the same as his. Mr Taylor just laughed and said that my father had already given him instructions on how my hair was to be cut. The lad left and I sat in the barber’s chair not knowing how my father had told Mr Taylor to cut my hair.

The cape was wrapped around me and the chair pumped up. Mr Taylor said that it had been a while since my hair had been cut but not to worry, he would sort me out. He turned to the counter, picked up his clippers placed a guard on them, picked up a comb and approached the chair. In one swift motion, he placed the clippers on my forehead and ran them over the top of my head. A cascade of hair fell onto the cape and, after the next few passes, the hair built up on the cape.

Once satisfied, he switched the guard on the clippers, and removed the hair on the sides and back of my head all the way to the crown. Looking at myself in the mirror, it was hard to take in that the hair on the top of my head had been taken down so short, and the sides, and I imagined the back, was even shorter. Mr Taylor saw me staring into the mirror and chuckled to himself. He explained that the top was cut to half an inch and the back and sides to a quarter. He just needed to blend the back and sides into the top and I would be finished. As he dusted me down, he said that he hoped my father would be happy with the result, but, if he wanted it shorter, just to come back and he would sort it out. The cape was removed, I rose from the chair, thanked Mr Taylor and left. I didn’t go straight home but headed to the park where I could have a seat and take in what had just happened to me.

It was whilst I was sitting on a bench in the park that a lad around my age approached me and just burst out laughing. I was really embarrassed, started to go red in the face and was just about to say something when a man approached and asked the lad what he found so amusing. The lad turned to the man and said look at that stupid haircut dad. He must be stupid to allow someone to cut his hair like that. The man turned to me and started to apologise for his son’s behaviour. He told his son that there was nothing wrong with my haircut and perhaps he would benefit from something similar, instead of the poncy haircut he had. The lad just looked at his dad and said no way would he get his haircut like that. The two of them just stood there looking at each other. The father turned to me and asked which barber I had been to. I explained that it was not a proper shop but I could show them where it was. The man said that he had an appointment fairly soon, but would be grateful if I could take his son to get a haircut. I said that it would not be a problem and that Mr Taylor should still be there. The lad was just about to say something when his father turned and said, go with this lad, get your haircut, no ifs or buts, and if your hair is not cut by the time we get home, there will be serious consequences. The man gave him some money and left. I stood up and said we had better hurry as I didn’t know what time Mr Taylor would close.

We arrived at Mr Taylors and for the first time, I was pleased to see the gate was still open. As we proceeded down the path towards the building, the lad asked what sort of dump I had brought him to and there was no way he was going to get his haircut in this hole. Little did he nor I know, that the door to the building was slightly ajar, and Mr Taylor had heard the comments.

On entering, Mr Taylor feigned a surprise look on his face and asked if my father was not satisfied with my haircut. I told him that I had not been home, but had gone to the park and was sitting on a bench, when this lad came up to me and started making fun of my haircut. Mr Taylor looked over at the lad and said really! I explained that the lad’s father had come across, complimented me on my haircut and stated that his son should get his haircut. So here we are. I was just glad that Mr Taylor was still open. Mr Taylor explained that he was just about to close. The lad said great, that’s not a problem we can go, but Mr Taylor said that as the lad’s father had told him to get his haircut, he could manage one more before closing. I closed the door and sat on one of the plastic chairs. Mr Taylor invited the lad to sit in the barber’s chair. On sitting down, the lad informed Mr Taylor that he just wanted the sides and back tided up and just to trim the top.

Mr Taylor caped the lad up and then, did something I had not seen before. He turned the chair so that it was facing the waiting area, away from the mirror. Mr Taylor looked at me and with a smile on his face, asked if I thought that the haircut, he had given the lad in the chair when I had arrived earlier, would suit the person now in the chair. My mouth opened but nothing came out. Mr Taylor said, do you think it should be shorter then? Again, my mouth opened and a weak yes, came out. Mr Taylor turned to the counter picked up a comb and the bare clippers, played around with the lever on the side of them, switched them on, and slowly glided them from forehead to crown making sure that the mass of hair fell onto the floor out of the lad’s vision. I think the lad must have realised what was happening, but before he could say anything, Mr Taylor just said, I’ve started so I had better finish.

The lads’ shoulders slumped down and I was sure that I saw his bottom lip quiver. Mr Taylor continued to remove all of the hair from the top of the head. Once satisfied, he dusted off the loose hair. He then picked up the smaller clippers that he used for lining up your haircut, switched them on and ran them from cheek to just below the top of the head. This procedure was repeated all around the back and other side of the lad’s head. Once satisfied, Mr Taylor picked up the normal clippers, played with the lever again and proceeded to blend the sides and back into the top. Mr Taylor stood back and checked the haircut. Turning to me he said, just one more thing to do and then we will be finished.

With that, he turned to the counter, picked up a can of shaving foam and spread a good layer around the lad’s head, going fairly high on the back and sides. Placing a towel on the lad’s shoulder, he picked up a razor, stroked it a few times on a leather belt attached to the chair, and proceeded to remove the foam around the head. This was all new to me. Never had I seen anyone being shaved before. Once the foam was removed, Mr Taylor used the towel to wipe off any excess. Picking up the smaller clippers, he went around the side and back of the head, pressing into the area just above where he had just shaved. Once satisfied, there was a final dusting off, and the chair was spun around so the lad could see himself in the mirror. His face was priceless. Mr Taylor removed the cape accepted the money from the lad and said he was welcome back at any time. But the lad had grabbed the door handle and was gone before Mr Taylor had finished his sentence.

Mr Taylor looked at me, and asked if I had enjoyed watching him remove all that hair, as he had thoroughly enjoyed dishing out the lad’s punishment. I said that I had, especially the part where he had spread the foam on the lad’s head, and removed it with his razor. It was something that I had never seen before. Mr Taylor surprised me a little when he said that he could do the same for me if I wanted him to. I was in two minds, thinking of the abuse I would get at school on the Monday and then said, I didn’t know what my father would say. Mr Taylor said, your father would be happy that you had a really smart haircut, but it was entirely up to me.

I climbed into the chair, Mr Taylor chuckled and said, I take it we are getting another haircut. For the second time that day, I was caped and Mr Taylor explained that he would leave the top the same length and just shorten the back and sides of my hair, and then shave the lower part. The clippers were switched on with a very small guard on them. The hair from just below my crown all around my head was removed. The guard was taken off. Mr Taylor changed the lever on the side of the clippers, and went over the hair again just below the last cut. The smaller clippers were used to remove the hair just below the last cut. This was all something new to me and the amount of time Mr Taylor spent cutting and blending my hair raised my opinion of him.

A final dusting took place. The towel was placed on my shoulder, and the foam applied to my head. The sensation of the razor scrapping the foam and hair off my head was amazing. It was all over too quickly for my liking. The towel removed the surplus foam, a final dusting and Mr Taylor showed me the back of my head in a hand mirror. My hand shot from under the cape and the sensation of feeling the smooth skin around my neck sent a tingling sensation through my body. Mr Taylor removed the cape. I stood up and shaking his hand, thanked him for the experience. He said that he would speak to my father, and the next time, he would shave it higher and take the top shorter. Smiling, I asked him to make sure it would be soon.

From dreading going to see Mr Taylor, I couldn’t wait until it was time to visit him again.

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