THE RIGHT PRINCIPLES OF A YOUNG MAN by Gottlieb

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Sorry, but English is not my native language. The English text of this true story is the result of the work of a translator.

THE RIGHT PRINCIPLES OF A YOUNG MAN
After returning home from military service to civilian life, everything was different due to political and social changes. Businesses and services were undergoing major changes. Old ones were disappearing and new ones were emerging, often only for a short time. My regular barber had retired, and the stern, malicious hairdresser was nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, a different hairdresser was always in charge of cutting my hair. But that didn't suit me at all - I had to constantly explain to each barber how short I wanted my hair cut. The cut wasn't always done well. I tried to keep my resolution to keep my hair short, which I had made after returning from the military, but it was becoming more and more difficult. This was despite the fact that in general awareness and in fashion there was a trend towards shorter or very short hairstyles, which were worn by more and more boys and young men.

I knew from experience that I liked very short hairstyles, the shorter the better. During my childhood and youth, I therefore mostly wore short and drastically cut hairstyles, and I also had my hair completely shaved. In this new situation, when I did not have my own permanent barber, my hair was sometimes cut longer (which I preferred) and sometimes shorter (which was not the right thing for me). Therefore, I went around different barbershops and looked for the right one, where I would be satisfied and where I could go regularly. However, it was not entirely pleasant and over time I resigned. Unfortunately, I stopped demanding very short haircuts so that I would not have to explain my requirements exactly every time. Gradually, I was getting used to it when the hairdresser just cut my hair with scissors, without using an electric clipper, and styled it to look bearable. I knew that I was starting to betray the principles I had set for myself. I knew that this was wrong.

Less than a year after returning from the war, my hair had grown quite long. The rather long bangs were approaching my nose, my ears were starting to be hidden by two-thirds of the hair, and the collar was not very visible either. The whole thing looked like a mop and it was not easy to maintain. A friend tried to improve the situation, cutting my hair slightly into a kind of idealized shape - I looked like a prince from a fairy tale. I remembered that I looked something like that when I once wanted to grow my hair long, before I had it styled into the then fashionable mullet. To achieve the full form of a fairy-tale prince, all I needed was a golden crown on my head... I wondered to myself what my hair looked like, what had I done? Why couldn't I put an end to it?

I thought about a radical solution quite often. But I didn't find the courage to quickly put an end to my more or less unwanted fairy-tale-style mop of hair. Instead, I looked in the mirror and began to be proud of my hair. In the morning, I had to wet my whole head and then comb it and blow dry it with a hairdryer. It took up quite a lot of time, during which I could otherwise have slept. Sometimes I told myself that I wasn't doing well and looked with interest at other boys' short haircuts, but I couldn't do anything more. I lived in illusions and lost touch with reality.

After spring, summer came and with it higher temperatures. The mop of hair was not comfortable, but I still felt like a prince charming. A new hair salon had opened near the bus stop, which immediately caught my attention. It was not very visible from the bus stop, but fortunately there was a bench on the edge of the sidewalk in front of it. From there, it was possible to observe the work of two young hairdressers, who were doing their job quite well. I started going there often, but I was careful not to stay there for too long. I masked my observation - or, if you prefer, snooping - by reading the newspaper, eating ice cream, or looking around. I went to snoop more and more often, and my vigilance and caution gradually weakened.

Before the end of August, I went to spy again after work - the hairdresser was having an afternoon haircut for the boys before the start of the new school year. One by one, the boys were getting nice short haircuts, it was something to look at. The sound of an electric hair clipper could sometimes be heard through the open door to my bench - I had slowly forgotten this sound. I daydreamed and wondered what it would be like if an electric hair clipper started its journey through my head after quite a long time? How would it deal with my long, disgustingly overgrown hair of a fairy-tale prince?

My daydream lasted a long time, maybe more than an hour. I didn't notice because closing time was approaching. I was snapped out of my daydream by the two hairdressers who came to ask me why I was still sitting outside their hairdresser's? Why didn't I come straight inside, where I could see better? Why don't I get a haircut from them when I spend more and more time watching their hairdressing work? I couldn't think of a word to answer, there would be no point in making excuses or lying anyway. So I got up and went inside with them.

On the way from the bench to the hairdresser's, I wondered what to do next? It was clear that I would definitely get a haircut. And a professional cut of my long hairstyle in the shape of a fairy-tale mop in the style of a prince wouldn't be a bad thing at all, on the contrary. So I sat down in a chair, a white barber's cape tightly tied around my neck, and one of the hairdressers took a comb in her hand. While combing my overgrown hair, she asked me what hairstyles I had worn before the mop I had now. After my explanation, she told me that she was surprised that I was wearing a mop, which she thought was childish, and that she would recommend that I go back to short, modern haircuts. My heart started beating faster - finally someone would free me from the captivity of my disgusting mop!

So I asked how short a haircut the hairdresser would recommend - and her prompt answer pleased me again: as short as possible. One that she herself calls "fresh", she will now give me. So I nodded my head in agreement and the long-delayed and expected process of transformation finally began. The scissors in the hairdresser's hands came to life and quickly cut most of the hair from the front of my head. After their action, my hair was about three centimeters long. It looked like a short, tousled hedgehog, the bangs looked similar. Then it was the turn of the sides around and above the ears - after a long time, an electric clipper started removing my hair and I had to admit that the hairdresser was really good at it. Before I knew it, my sides were cut high and my white, exposed ears showed that they hadn't been in the sun for a long time. In a moment, a comb was used to lift my hair above my collar and the buzzing clipper began to run high up from the back of my head in the free space. It was like nothing I had experienced in a long time. The electric clipper ran from the bottom up, the attachments changed from larger to smaller, I thought it would never end. Finally, the clipper ran completely without the attachment through the highly arched arches around my ears and then between my ears, similarly high up on my neck. The whirring of the clipper, removing my mop with its typical buzzing sound, did me good. The clipper came into its own perfectly during this radical transformation of my head! Then came the careful and thorough shaving, which I thoroughly enjoyed... A look in the mirror shortly afterwards surprised and pleased me. After a long time, I had a very short haircut again, one that didn't require much care. I had desperately needed this for a long time! The unbelievable had finally happened! I couldn't have wished for anything better! I would no longer be like a childish prince, but like a proper young man who had perhaps understood the correct principles of hair care.

I gladly paid and said goodbye to the hairdresser's saviors, who had to work a little longer. After many attempts, however, I found a hairdresser's shop where I could regularly go for short haircuts. That was the biggest win! As I was leaving, I met a slightly older guy in front of the door, who complimented my new very short "fresh" haircut and said that it suited me! I was happy and we agreed to meet soon for coffee or a beer. But more about that another time.

Did you like this true story of mine? Write me your reactions here, or at haircut@centrum.cz.
I look forward to it and thank you.

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