So I gave him the shaving soap to try. Then came the difficult bit. Getting a response. The conversation went like this.
‘How are you getting on with the new shaving soap? Is it what you’re looking for in a wet shaving system?’
‘What is important to me,’ he replied, ‘is not to look too much like my father while using the shaving mirror. Though he was a handsome man, it’s just that….’
‘Stop’, I shouted, ‘what are you talking about?’
Apparently, a lot of men have childhood memories of watching their father earnestly lathering his chin. Then, years later, in front of the mirror, they realise they’re making the same gestures and grimaces as they scratch off that last reluctant whisker. Let’s face it, lads – there is no escaping the genes.
I asked him again to think about what was important for shaving, from his point of view. That set him off reminiscing again.
‘A really sharp blade. I can remember as a child, that scary packet of two-edged razor blades lay at the heart of my father’s – never-to-be-touched - shaving kit. Oh, the other thing you’ve got to remember is to hold your elbow constantly higher than the wrist, so as to avoid lathery water running up your arm. I don’t know why it took me years to get into this habit…..’
‘But what about the shaving soap?’ (What was wrong with him today? His head was clearly elsewhere.)
‘The soap? Oh, yes, what you want is to finish the shave with your skin feeling, well, just smooth really – but not with that tight, dried out and irritated feeling you get with some of those off-the-shelf gels. I like your Shetland Shaving Soap a lot.
It’s got a ‘clovey’ kind of scent. Reminds me of Christmas. And it’s the colour of butterscotch. (The other stuff I used to use was a sort of weird blue….) Best of all, you can swizzle up a lather in its container-thingie and afterwards you don’t seem to need moisturising or soothing lotions. So it saves time as well. Yes, I’m a convert.
Honestly. I wish he’d just said that in the first place!
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