Beards Boudoir

Illustration by Damian

The one place I thought I would never visit, I did so this week:  the barber shop.

Niched in and about Paris are a few adresses solely dedicated to the caring and up keeping of that manly trademark. Me, being of Asian descent, I have been genetically programed without a beard and with a sparse, nearly inexistant moustache. Thus, my daily morning routine consists of a morning wash and scrub, followed by, at tops, a 15 seconds electric shave.

ALAIN, MAITRE BARBIER

So having to enter this temple of male grooming, was at first a bit awkward. But the common atmosphere of old world camaraderie which I found in each shop was inviting and discreet. Almost like the private men’s club one encounters in London. And if smoking was still allowed in public places, I imagined a musky smell of cigars and scotch, mixed with impeccable freshness.

KEIHL'S

During my visit, conversations whispered between clients and each barber, and I felt like I was been scrutinized as members discussed my possible admittance into their club. But upon leaving, a friendly nod, sealed my approval in their select club of men, who knows how to enjoy the simple things: like getting a shave.

Each barbershop had its own distinct atmosphere even though the basic ingredients were the same. KIEHL'S on rue des Martyrs (Paris 9eme), tiny but luminous, is situated for that quick détente while doing the daily shopping. ALAIN, Maître barbier (Paris 3eme), is a step back into a time in Little Italy, where men’s grooming was a rite of passage. Even the shaving cream is from a recipe passed down from generation to generation. LE BARBIER DE PARIS’(Paris 9eme) mirrored and chôme fixtures, had an edgy Berlinoise feeling of the new, the classic but subversely unconventional. My last stop at the LES THERMES DE LUTÈCE (Paris 4eme), is a total retreat, offering not only grooming but fully organic services.

LE BARBIER DE PARIS

I guess, this ritual which have been endured since Roman times, really makes a man feel like ceasar. 

Dimple or No Dimple

Illustration by Damian

Growing up having to wear a tie as a daily uniform was never a fashion statement. I never paid much attention to the actual knot, I was more concerned about how I was going to integrate this additional sign of uniformity.  Of course, during official gatherings, it had to be worn firmly close at the neck. So not wanting to look like a total geek, the common style was the knot that looked the most undone, known as the Four in Hand knot.

Years later, now in Paris, I avoided wearing ties as much as possible. Casual chic was in its heyday, and as grunge culture allowed for just t's, I got by just fine. But like all movements, the next is usually a reaction to the previous, and I found myself obsessed again with my childhood accessory. Thus started my quest for the perfect knot.

Of course, the answer commonly given was the dimpled Windsor.

Surely the Duke is an icon of gentlemanly chic, so how could you go wrong! Not!

Things have changed.

That perfect bulb of fabric, emanating from a crisp collar, looks silly. So if you're not a Duke or any sort of high aristocrat, it's a Don't. Plus getting that little dimple just right is not that simple.

Of courses there's always exceptions, with the thickness, width and fabric to think about. But with my current tie collection, the Windsor is not for them.

As a rule, your tie should sprout from a small knot forming a delicate curve from the neck to the shirt.

Plus the knot should be compact. Here's where you get boyscout points.

I don't want to say that's all, because it's not easy to look easy. That chic effortlessness takes practice.

And if you think that was easy, wait until you try bow ties.