Knighted by the barber

Tie instead of tattoo, straight razor instead of trendy fade: a visit to the world’s oldest barbershop, where the air still carries aftershave, tradition, and a faint whiff of power rather than craft-beer beards.

For a long time, I was a regular at a London barbershop staffed exclusively by young, tattooed Italians. It seemed as if the shop would stay forever young—only I kept getting older. One day, I caught sight of myself in the mirror: a nearly 40-year-old family father with a haircut that may have suited someone younger, far younger. That was the moment I realized: it was time to move on.

I took my leave from the world of trendsetters on a Saturday morning, when I first stepped into Truefitt & Hill. The oldest barbershop in the world is a bastion of tradition and permanence. Here, barbers don’t prep hipsters for craft-beer tastings but gentlemen for great deeds—once upon a time men like Winston Churchill or Field Marshal Montgomery.

The barbers wear ties instead of tattoos. Next to me, an American (the Wall Street shark type) is having his hair shampooed, while a Chinese man (Hong Kong steel tycoon type) is getting his neck shaved. The conversation circles around world affairs: the rising powers of Asia, Europe, and Brexit. Then I spot a black-and-white portrait of Churchill on the wall and silently hope I won’t be leaving with his haircut. After thirty minutes, my fears are put to rest: the cut is sharp, my beard neatly trimmed.

That a bald statesman should bear witness to this barber’s craftsmanship makes sense: what gets lathered here is not just the (remaining) hair of the clients but, above all, their egos. I like to think of myself as a grounded personality. Yet even I can feel a sense of grandeur here. As if I had been knighted with a razorblade and admitted to a round table scented of tobacco, musk, and power. Of course, it could also just be that the aftershave-laden air has gone to my head.

Later, I learn that Truefitt & Hill’s clientele has also included Prince Philip, the Queen’s husband. He is 97. In this barbershop’s world, that allows me, at last, to feel young again. As I leave, I say: See you soon!

Reinhard Keck is a journalist reporting from London for Focus and other outlets. Recently, a friend asked if he might give her partner a few grooming tips. He’s still delighted about that.

This column first appeared in the print edition of 30 Grad in spring 2019.