Captain Midnight here, reporting from Acton, lifestyle capital of West London.
Himself had a haircut yesterday. Not such a big deal you might think, but you would be mistaken because we didn’t go to a barber or even to a hairdresser.
We went to Arthur Razor himself: the dapper gentleman’s choice for personal grooming. My job was to ensure that Himself didn’t get too carried away with his new hipster self-image. No shaved temples and product-bolstered quiff; no topknot and biblical beard for us, thank you very much. Just a nice trim, if you please.
I can tell you that Mr Razor runs a very fine establishment and that – judging by the preening glances in the mirror and self-satisfied grunts – Himself thoroughly enjoyed being pampered for an hour or so by expert snip-artist Corinne and resident beard-trimming consultant, Nick.
Great music in the background (I detected some early Led Zepp in the mix) plus a decent cappuccino got us off to a good start and the whole thing wound up with a relaxing shampoo, hot towels, and 10 minutes in the massage chair.
Now, I don’t begrudge Himself a little luxury (and it was a fine haircut) but I would like to point out that when I go to the groomers it’s a rather different experience: plonked on a table; hitched up in slings at both ends; and generally set about with electric clippers and anti-flea shampoo.
No hot towels. No massage chair. Not a cappuccino in sight.
Talk about double standards!
Arthur Razor at 12 Churchfield Rd, Acton, London W3 6EG