Just Call Me Nick
When it comes to shaving, I’m a blade man. I learned the trait from my dad, who used to shave with those double-sided razors. As a kid I remember watching him shave in the morning. He’d apply lather with one of those brushes and then methodically run the shaving razor across his face while listening to a portable transistor radio.
It was 1966, because the song blaring from the radio was Pretty World by Sergio Mendez and Brazil ’66. It was a great memory, for as he finished up and rinsed his face off, he’d wink at me, locking up our “guy” ritual. Over the years I’ve tried different methods of shaving, using an electric shaver and even used a straight razor for a while.
Today it’s all about speed and convenience, so I currently use those plastic disposable razors. They’re just as good as anything else, they just don’t have that same nostalgic feel of the stainless steel “T” razor my dad used to use. Besides, today I have a different shaving ritual of sorts. You see, my wife and 15-year-old daughter both use the same type of disposable razor as I do.
Of course, their use is on other body parts, namely their legs and underarms. There have been numerous occasions when my razor will be suspiciously dull. I’ve tried to remedy the “accidental” use of my razor by purchasing theirs in the color pink and mine in green. It makes no difference because they both tend to use whatever razor is handy, which is always mine.
Mine is always in the same place in the medicine cabinet so it is the target blade by both mother and daughter. After numerous nicks and bouts with a styptic pencil, I finally got wise to these two ladies. I started using the pink razors and keep it under the sink and leave a green razor in the medicine cabinet for them to use.
I’m now shaving with a pink razor – and my dad must be rolling in his grave.