The trade was reduced, long ago, to three instruments. A barber who requires a fourth is generally a barber whose foundations were left incomplete.
The blade. A straight razor of European manufacture, traditionally Solingen steel from the German workshops or Sheffield from the English. The blade is honed once a week against leather, and stropped before each shave. A blade properly cared for will outlast the man who owns it.
The bowl. A porcelain shaving bowl, of the kind produced in Stoke-on-Trent until the closure of the last factory in 1979. The bowl warms the lather, which is the difference between a shave that comforts and a shave that scrapes. A wooden bowl is acceptable. A plastic one disqualifies the establishment.
The brush. Boar bristle for the working man, badger hair for the gentleman. The hair is raised in circles, never strokes, until the lather has the consistency of cream and the warmth of fresh tea. A new brush requires three months of use before it is broken in; a well-kept brush will perform reliably for twenty years.
Beyond these three, very little is required.
A pair of scissors, in the German tradition. A comb of horn, never plastic. A razor strop of horsehide. A cabinet of finishing tonics, none of which carry colour or scent unbecoming of the cabinet. The towels, of course, in cotton — never microfibre.
The room itself, dim. The chair, leather. The mirror, large enough to see one’s work, small enough to discourage one from admiring it.
Everything else, the men of Jermyn Street would tell you, is decoration.
A quiet appointment is reserved on request. Write to us.
