Eleven years passing scalpels.
From 2002 to 2013 Hollis Ives was a surgical technologist: the person in the operating room who lays out the instruments, hands each one to the surgeon, and counts them. He started barber school at thirty-two and opened the chair on Front Street in the fall of 2014.
Tell me if the towel is too hot. Nobody does on their first visit.
In surgery, every instrument on the tray is counted before the first incision and again at the end, and the patient isn’t closed until the two counts match. He counts his tray the same way, before every client and after.
- Two straight razors
- One horsehide strop
- One badger brush
- One lather bowl, warmed
- Two pairs of shears
- Three combs
- One pair of clippers, four guards
- Three towels
- One tin of alum powder
- One cape, laundered
Then the razors, shears and combs go into the autoclave: steam at 250 degrees, the same cycle he ran between surgeries. The brush is washed and hung to dry, the clipper blades are disinfected, and the towels and cape are laundered after one use.
A card for every face since 2014.
About thirty-one hundred of them, in an oak drawer under the window: grain, skin, towel heat, the passes that suit you, and anything worth remembering. He reads yours before you come up the stairs and adds a line after you leave. Four regulars said he could show theirs.
Start your card- Grain
- Sideways, everywhere.
- Skin
- Thin. Go slow at the throat.
- Towel
- Warm, never hot.
- Note
- No stairs since 2023.
- Note
- First Mondays, at his kitchen table.
- Grain
- Straight down. Whorl at the crown.
- Towel
- The hottest I have.
- Passes
- With, then against.
- Note
- Retired lockmaster.
- Note
- River talk after the first pass.
- Grain
- Down, then out along the jaw.
- Skin
- Keloids, left jaw.
- Passes
- One. Nowhere near the jaw.
- Note
- Wedding, September 14, 2024.
- Note
- Shaved him at 7, before opening.
- Skin
- Sensitive at the nape.
- Towel
- Warm. No alum, it stings.
- Passes
- Two. Chair flat for the crown.
- Note
- Started during chemo, 2021.
- Note
- Kept it. Brings the crossword.
- Grain
- Skin
- Towel
- Passes
Yours. — H.
- No walk-ins.
- No phone calls in the chair.
- No tips.
- No menthol.
- Never against the grain on a first visit.
H. Ives
One porcelain chair.
Porcelain arms, a nickel frame, and a hydraulic pump that lifts the seat in four strokes.
He had it rebuilt before he opened. The room is the second floor of an 1891 building: a pressed-tin ceiling, one tall window over Front Street, a radiator that knocks from November on. There is no second chair, and no waiting room.
The card taped to the corner of the mirror has said the same five things since the first week. Menthol only hides irritation, so the finish is alum and an unscented balm. Going against the grain waits until your card says your skin can take it.
Your card isn’t written yet.
Or call (740) 555-0119.