Switching your shaving habits from a mass produced multi-bladed cartridge razor to a double edge safety razor is a great way of ensuring that proper, manly shave. But for many men around the world this can be a daunting move and something that is not taken lightly. But the rewards are great, as Steven Pearson, one of our customers, found out.
Here is his story:
Vividly, it was quite frankly horrible. I was a ridiculously moody teenager with more bum fluff than I, and it turns out most of my class mates, thought natural, so after skulking off home I decided to take matters into my own shaky hands. Armed with some shockingly blue old spice shaving gel stolen from my brother and also a clean razor from the brother’s stash, I wandered into the bathroom with much trepidation.
What happened next is still difficult to describe, my non-washed or softened skin getting slavered with untold luminous chemicals, sliding across the grain, bleeding and, for the piece de resistance, a loud bang from the kitchen door as it is slammed shut after getting caught with the breeze that made me jump so high that I almost cut my chin off. In fact the scar was there for a good six months and was the starting point of any conversation that a female tried to have with me for the entire summer. That’s the best a man can get? – was it hell!
Over the next couple of years I tried various shapes, sizes and blade numbers with limited success until, as a poor broke student I stumbled across a double edged black, but yet again, double edged razor sold in Boots. It was amazing, still not at the level of doing anything vaguely helpful in the way of pre or post shave care but I learnt how to shave properly and with confidence for the entirety of my student life. That is until my first pay packet saw me running out to buy the latest, shiniest, many-bladed monstrosity that I ravaged my skin with for the next 18 years.
That was until recently, when again financial constraints and silent mouthing of “how much” in supermarket aisles drove me back to the same high street retailer where, sitting quietly and plainly, in the almost easily overlooked part of the shaving section stood my saviour.
Mass produced, made of plastic and badly made, of course – so badly that a quick once over with a blade and nail file to the flashed edges was necessary, was my Wilkinson sword classic, complete with blades – an absolute bargain! Home I rushed and quickly washed and prepared my face and drew the old friend across it, it was like a homecoming.
A homecoming to that fateful first day and a blood loss of prestigious proportions as I attempted to remember how to shave properly! And yes over the next few days, and I am ashamed to say weeks, I relearnt the art of shaving. Not much has changed to be honest, early mornings are still a ridiculous time to get up, but the array of products available to Joe Bloggs has improved dramatically thanks to the advent of the Internet and the postal van of happiness that now drops off delights at my house regularly.
The feeling of delight when your face has its whiskers cleanly lopped off is still there and the clean shaven face that greets me with its big smile is more familiar than before, it seems to say: ”welcome to the billionaires boys club, we all shave like this”. Work seems a bit more impressed, with one of my colleagues commenting about how fresh faced I looked.
The good lady seems impressed too; comments about how she prefers to see me clean shaven have reduced as I’m always clean shaven now. Also the incidence of the European kiss hello, you know, the one where you get a kiss of the side of the face instead of square on the smackers has reduced dramatically. Long live the double edged razor and all who use her!