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Thursday, 01 May 2008 21:08 |
I Wanted the Dean Martin,
I got the Dean Martin
by Jack Newcastle
True, they say women love wavy hair on a man, but once mine gets past the two inch mark, I start looking like an Italian anarchist from the 1920s. The particular trouble I have is with the forelock in that it grows out and up and down and out again and to the right and then does sort of a dipsy-do and then curly-q just before doubling back on itself. Over the years, stylists have tried to tame the renegade tress, and some have met with success, but it usually takes them three or four tries to even come up with a solid assessment as to what’s going on up there. Not so with Severin Dickson, proprietor of Dickson Hairshop, who got it right from the very first chop.
Located at 137 Allen Street in New York’s Lower East Side, Dickson Hairshop is a refreshing change of pace from the 'old-school' barbershops that have been opening around the city. Rather than the usual psychobilly flame and pin-up girl décor one has come to expect of a 50s style cuttery, Dickson’s is a clean and uncluttered black and white shop dominated by two mid-century barber chairs. In the window is glass shelving lined with tumblers and booze, and after offering me a whiskey (did he have to ask?), Mr. Dickson set to work on my problematic locks. Behind me, the Stones yelped from a small radio, and I appreciated the lack of a booming stereo system, for in the same way I don’t expect to go to a noisy club and get a haircut, I don’t expect to go for a haircut and find myself in a noisy club. Within forty-five minutes, I was surprised to find that Mr. Dickson’s first venture around the unruly wilds of my head was a thorough success. The mad bomber look was gone and the suave Dean Martin was in its place. For the very reasonable price of $35, I think I can afford to keep it that way. Visit Dickson Hairshop for rates and hours.
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