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I needed a haircut…and not just a haircut. I needed a haircut I could feel good about. Lately, I have struggled with it. I have given thought to growing out my hair and going for that professorial look, but I can never get past the stage where I can’t do anything to make it not look like a trashcan fire-warming, boxcar-riding hobo. Not that there’s anything wrong with that…
Except that it is neither good for business nor pleasure because I feel the way I look – like an unattended sheepdog with the hang jowls of a hound dog and the disposition of a bee-stung mastiff.
Just steer clear until I work this out.
So, here I go again…
“Hello, Google.”
My phone springs to life in anticipation of the next order I give it, just another morsel of my life willingly yielded to the evil soul-suckers at the world’s most convenient and insidious service.
“Show me the best haircuts near me.”
It isn’t the first time I have asked Google for this information. The last time, I selected a spot not far away that was listed in the top ten. It proved to be anything but the best haircut near me!
This time, I look past the paid advertisement for The Elixir Salon and my eyes settle on the first place Google brings up that is not the result of advertising dollars. I like the name already! Dappa Dan’s Barber Shop.
The name brings to mind one of my all-time favorite movies, O Brother, Where Art Thou. That movie is replete with genius characters and delightful dialogue. In it, George Clooney plays the tortured soul and escaped prison inmate, Ulysses Everett McGill. He is a brilliant conversationalist with a massive vocabulary and a mischievous disposition. He is also obsessed with his hair and the Dapper Dan pomade with which he grooms it.
One of Clooney’s memorable lines is delivered to a proprietor of a dry goods store in some Podunk town: “I don’t want FOP, (blankety-blank) it! I’m a Dapper Dan man.”
I chose the place because of its name and one review that cracked me up. I laugh at it every time I see it, and I made it the title of this post. Here is a snippet of the review:
It was the second review that had me rolling and thinking, If I can’t name a book by that title, I can dang sure name a blog post by it!
Turns out, Dappa Dan’s is, as advertised, “not just a barberhop, but a lifestyle shop.”
It is one of those places that borrows a vibe from yesterday when men went to barbershops that featured a red-and-white spinning pole next to the entrance. They went there to talk sports with other patrons and the barber himself, to read the newspaper and offer commentary on current events, to cuss the all-fired weather and maybe the weatherman for good measure, and to get their hairs neatly trimmed and their faces shaved with hot shaving cream and a leather-stropped, glistening straight razor. Dapper Dan’s borrows that vibe, that sense of community and place of belonging, and bends it to the culture of the cool kids, the ones with intimidating tattoos, impressive facial jewelry, and fierce beards; the ones wearing rock concert tees, leather sandals, and curious looks on their faces when an old, gray dinosaur like me saunters in like I’m Marshal Dillon coming through the swinging doors of Miss Kitty’s Saloon.
I stroll in and then freeze solid, taking in the surroundings, and recognizing I am a fish and this is not water.
“Don’t be scared. Come on in,” grins the barber behind the middle chair and from the other side of the cultural world, whom I think might be the proprietor.
I’m terrified,’ I quip.
Everybody laughs and I already like this motley crew. (They could have been Motley Crue band members, for all I knew.)
In my head, George Strait is singing, “Take me back to Texas.”
Of course, I am in Texas just a few miles from my homestead.
I sit in the last chair, the one furthest from the door and deepest in the belly of the hipster haircut haven. The chair is manned by Pat the Irish Barber (https://www.instagram.com/pat_the_irish_barber/). He is a friendly fellow with decorated skin and a pierced septum. He tells me stories about his connections with members of popular local bands and recounts a few notable concerts he has attended. He also tells me about his wife and his son. He’s a proud family man.
Pat is engaging without being too chatty or friendly. He strikes a good balance between an efficient work pace and casual conversation. The thing that strikes me, though, is how meticulously he attends to the details of his craft. He expertly fusses over the unruly mess I presented him until a semblance of order emerges. I briefly imagine Gutzom Borglum, the genius artist, hammering away and strategically dynamiting the massive South Dakota boulders that will eventually yield the mighty faces of Mount Rushmore.
When he is done, this man from the other side of the cultural divide has given me the best haircut I have received in years.
I walked in a mess and walked out a Dappa Dan man, blankety-blank it.
I also walked out reminding myself not to be afraid to engage with those who don’t look, think, or dress like me. We are all humans made by the same Almighty hand and here on purpose. Maybe somewhere, I will be useful in helping someone understand that purpose.
Or maybe I will simply learn from them.
Either way, a good haircut is a great start.
(I never saw any free beer and no cans were cracked open while writing this tale.)
