For me, “product” includes experience. I’ve never liked mine hair and for most
of my adult life it seems like the feeling was mutual. When I was a kid, growing up in Beatlemania, the kids I envied the most were the Japanese. Their hair was so black and straight. Mine, on the other hand, was tangly uneven, unmanageable and downright Eastern European. Throughout the years I’ve tried to sort of follow trend. Back in my early London days, the “Laddish” look was all the rage, as promulgated by Liam Gallagher of Oasis and previously anointed upon the noggin of Hollywood’s golden god of cool, George Clooney.
“Give me the Clooney” sounded like something right off the sexual menu, but in fact, it was merely a “Number 2” and swooned to the front. Also known as “the Caesar”, but hold the croutons thank you. Well time moves on and several thousand tumbleweeds constrict me to “working ’round the gully,” that airline landing strip of encroaching baldness which stars at my forehead and extends backwards down towards my ass. So. What have I got to work with?
My beard. Multicolored fast growing malleable and by coincidence very trendy. Women have often found my beard to be very sexy. My last girlfriend used to grab me by the whiskers, pull outwardly, and somehow trigger her juices and I don’t mean fresh squeezed. True, having a beard makes me look older than I used to be. But therein lies the rub. Should I literally shave off ten years or by keeping and in fact curating my beard, could I indeed time travel like Jules Verne, backwards to a time and place of steam engine cars, telephone tubes, and eternal hipness?
I always thought Supercuts was a badass urban superhero. Fantastic Sam’s was going to a guy with scissors who thought a little too highly of himself. A good barber is like a good doctor or lawyer. And, all three can cut you if you’re not careful. Most of the time, I’ve felt like I’ve unwittingly sat in the barber chair of Sweeney Todd, unwittingly awaiting my throat slashed. I’ve had hair-cutters work on me, while on their phone. Checking Facebook while they hold a sharp implement close to my face. In and out and next.
I always admire individuals who make a choice in life and do it. Brandan Barney is such the man. Fed up in other fields such as working for Apple and with a counselling major and a minor in biblical studies, Brendan decided to chuck the rest and go to barber school. A professionally trained non-practicing therapist, a visit with Brandan is like an intimate and calm afternoon with your most wisest and caring friend. He truly has no hidden agenda. He doesn’t suck up to fame and has a big open heart, but doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Brandan cut my hair a few weeks ago and I was unhappy with my out of control growing beard. I didn’t even know what I wanted. To say I was always schizophrenic with my beard is an understatement. I like the way a big beard feels from the inside, but whenever I watch actor’s faces in film and television, I envy their chins. Then. I bought a hat. A genuine Steam Punk Top Hat up on Hollywood Boulevard. Just for a lark. Maybe keep my head warm, cover up my confusing nest of unhappy strands.
Going with the apparent flow, I Googled “Steam Punk beards” and lo and behold the answer was dancing like a naked lady in the middle of the road. I showed Brendan what I wanted and boom. He did it. He trimmed my beard inwards from the jowels and left the bushy mustache, not only intact, by in wax. And boom once again, a new Steven Alan Green was born. Within 48 hours, I’ve had three beautiful women I never met before tell me I was either “cute” or “sexy” or “annoying them”.
Nestled in the semi-colon of West Hollywood, just up the road from Santa Monica Boulevard and on Larrabee, The Barber Surgeons Guild is an amazing all in one hair care battle station. From the old timey function and look of turn of the century barber chairs to the extremely cutting edge outer space specialized machinery that does all kinds of stuff to the skin, the hair, and all of it’s gluten free and safe.
Like I said, I want the experience as much as the product. I can’t wait to go back to Brendan Barney and sit in his magical time machine chair. I know he’ll take care of me, treat me professionally and ask me how things are going and, unlike most of the lost souls in Los Angeles, Brandan Barney means it.
The Barber Surgeons Guild is located at 805 Larrabee Street, West Hollywood, CA 90069. P- 310 975-7094
For The Hollywood Dog, this is Steven Alan “Woofy” Green