Contemplation

I've been thinking about straight razors for a couple of days now. I think it started with thinking about using shaving soap and a brush. Actually, in my late teenage years I was a horse and western freak. I saw all those rough, tough cowboys shaving with a straight razor and figured that was the way real men shaved. Mentioning this to someone was the wrong thing, however. They immediately warned me that I would slit my throat or at the very least, perform inadvertent plastic surgery on myself.

I've been a wet shaver (read, shaving with hot water - I know, I know, not the traditional definition) for most of the last 40 years. I was seduced by the electric mistress for a few months in my early 20's, but it was a sad affair. I tried to enjoy it, but felt nothing but hot abrasiveness. Pain and shame should have no place in a man's morning routine. The siren song of the blade, a hot stream of water, and rich white foam lured me back. Closer shaves, a bit of ritual, and all that.

I tried good ol' Old Spice shaving soap in their branded sailing ship mug as a late teenager, and didn't have a lot of success. So I went back to the shaving cream spray bombs and have dwelt there ever since.

I fell for every safety razor ad ever put out by Madison Avenue. Single edge injectors, Gillette Trac-II, Mach 3, they're all in my background. Now that I'm studying the deeper aspects of the manly art of shaving, I'm not so convinced of those "advanced" shaving technologies, to say nothing of their associated lack of technique.

And so... I'm contemplating a straight razor again, 35 years after first thinking about it. You, dear reader, are the benficiary of my contemplation. In these electronic pages I'll chronicle my journey through the minefield/maze of learning about scraping hair off my face with a single lethally sharp chunk of steel. Come on along and enjoy the journey.