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After weeks of domestic disagreement and seven months of growing an epic beard I decided to have a significant trim. I was scared, nervous, and already regretting it. Typically I go to a salon in my neighborhood for a quick cut but I knew this was a job for a trusted gentleman’s barber. I chose Turner’s Barbershop on North High Street in Columbus.
I left work and drove downtown, my iPhone map seemingly leading my sense of manhood to certain death and snickering at me with every turn. After 15 minutes I had arrived (hoping that they would be closed or not be able to fit me in).
I walked in and stood there like a sucker waiting for a punch. “You want a haircut man?” “Yes, and a beard trim.” “Okay then, have a seat.” Two guys in the chairs and two in line in front of me (both with substantial beards).
Walls are decorated with vintage photos from the 1800’s, old taxidermy and classic barbering images. A few swords and an old gun are hung between them, cool vintage decor. Each barber has an antique hutch as their work station. Classic.
I sit on an old setee with ornamental wood trim across the top that looks like it would be in an 1800’s western movie. The other fellas are sitting on old theater chairs. This place has style and class.
One chair opens. Two of us waiting.
There is a framed picture of Abraham Lincoln on the wall next to an aged American Flag and I can’t help but feel a kinship with him. Waiting for the fatal blow; certain death to my glorious beard. Lincoln got the last laugh though, at least he kept his beard until the end.
Fox, ram, and pheasant hang on the wall. I can’t help relate to them as well, all once magnificent and wild before being cut down in their prime. I watch as one of the barbers works on a large beard. He uses the clippers with precision and grace. I’m feeling more comfortable at this point.
Three vintage chandeliers hang from the punched tin ceiling, all with Edison bulbs. The whole place is probably 15 feet wide but much deeper in length. Another chair opens and I’m the sole patron waiting. Maybe I could just get a haircut now and trim when I got home. Nope. Need to stick with the plan and trust a professional.
My turn. I can do this.
I sit down in a vintage Koch barber chair from 1890 and I can almost smell the oak, leather and brass on it. Barber Turner wears a leather apron, asks me what the plan is, and gets to work. As if I wasn’t nervous enough, I sit facing a wall without a mirror as he works his craft. His work station has a mirror, but we aren’t facing it. Total trust in a total stranger.
With the hum of the clippers and crisp snips of the scissors he makes easy work of the haircut. He moves on to the beard and works it free hand. As time went on I felt increasingly confident and knew I had made the right choice to put my faith in a pro, rather than hacking away at it myself.
When he was finished he put a hot towel over my head and neck, brushed on the foam, and shaved my neck with a straight razor. That alone was worth the price of admission. He smoothly turned the chair around and used a framed mirror to show me all angles of the beard trim and haircut. I swear I heard angels singing. Easily the best my beard has ever looked and a brilliant haircut to boot. What was I worried about?
This was the right choice.
My journey from beard-trimming anxiety to trust in a professional was complete. Thanks toTurner’s Barbershop for a great experience. See you in two weeks old friend.