Best Damn Haircut ... Ever!

Sometimes the simplest things in life, so often reduced to commonality by the daily mundane, defy the mediocre routine and rise up in rare moments of absolute excellence. Who expects excellence when you walk into a humble barbershop?

For all Bloggers in a 70 mile proximity of the Dominion Barber Shop in McLean, VA, stop by for a haircut ... You'll walk away cleanest, refreshed and impressed. Do I care how it looks? Not really... I'm a guy, I got a haircut and now my hair is short. What matters is how (and for how much) I got a haircut. In my 35 years of existence, I've never had a better cut experience. That's how good my last haircut was. I live in Florida, but I will now save my haircuts for when returning there to visit hometown family and friends.

First, this is not a hair salon, follicle spa or other such confusion (no Jonathan Product here ...), this is a no nonsense barber shop. You walk into a small shop tucked in a building complex in the heart of old McLean. The staff are polite, pleasant and professional, with the graceful understanding that men just need a barber. The conversation was limited to a zen-like brevity. "How do you want it cut?" "Short", I replied. Nothing more had to be said, and amazingly nothing was. No pretense of friendship, no "pretend your a regular" schmooze... Just sit down, we'll both shut up, and you'll get the best damn haircut of your life.

The female barber (barberette?) began with the buz cutters. OK, typical so far. Then she went for the shears, and began snipping away. This is where it usually ends with every other haircut. More buzzed than cut, you look in the mirror and say "thank you", really thinking "hell, I used to that to myself in college" and give the person twenty five bucks after tip. You pay the bill, and weakly wave while exiting, turning in motion to mutter some cliche goodbye like "See you next month" (not likely).

Now return to Dominion Barber Shop in McLean, VA, where a little bit of heaven can be found. My barber(ette) snipped a lot, then went back to the buzzers, then returned to hand snipping around my ears and neck. Now, I'm moderately impressed. Usually its the one-two treatment, and your oughta there. I even looked up, trying to determine was this an unusually thorough treatment, or did she just make a lot of mistakes. Nope, she really cares about the purity and perfection of a good cut. Still, nothing to this point is blog-worthy.

Then the improbable, followed by a rarity and closing with and act nearing the sanctity of ceremony occurred.

First, the barber applied a gel shaving foam to my back neck and sideburn edges. One of those cool, skin percolating shaving creams that were tre' chic in the '80s. Its got the "sshhhschk" sound coming out of the can, then the alovera smell and cool mint-tingling touch all in one package. Then, she shaves me not with a razor, or the latest Gillette Ultra-Rip Off, but a real folding barber blade. I flash to all those old west barber shop scenes and the one scene where an Al Capone-Robert Dinero gets nicked. No worries here, just a smooth shave.

I am now openly smiling, trying to sit up straight and hold back a "...Wow... Cool..." even.

O.K. Now the rarely seen in these western lands.... A neck and shoulder massage. She pulls out some hand glove device, fashioned out of metal and rubber. It looks like a bizarre cat hair glove gone S&M, but she hits me with it so fast I can't even think "what the hell is that thing, lady", before she kneading it into my neck and shoulder. It's vibrating on my neck, she's driving it into knots I've had so long I thought I was supposed to hang my shirts on them. Before I can regain my silent composure, I actually utter "....Wow... Cool". This isn't only cool, its manly even.

Finally, the ritual of sanctity. After doing the usual "remove the gown and brush down" post-hair cut routine, the barber takes a hot scented towellete and wipes my face and neck down. She didn't even ask. Its like "in your face" refreshed.

We approach the counter in silence; me still grinning foolishly and rubbing the back of my now slick neck, like some cowboy getting up in recovery after his first bull ride.

She punches the cash register, smiles, and says ""$15, please. There's a free coke or water around the corner." Price? $15? And you get a free soda to go? I gave here a $5 tip, and still feel the wisely miser.

Let's recap:
1.) Man needs haircut, because wife says so, and because she hates when man does it himself.

2.) Therefore, man hates haircuts, because haircutteries' today do exactly what man do, but cost money, and because wife somehow thinks this is better solution.

3.) Man finds small, simple, clean BARBER shop. (No fu fu)

4.) Barber is barberette who does not talk.

5.) Conversation in detail
- "How do you want it cut?"
- "Short"
- "...Wow... Cool..." (only thought)
- "...Wow... Cool..." Actually said.
-"$15, please. There's a free coke or water around the corner."

6.) BEST DAMN HAIRCUT EVER.

Dominion Barber Shop

6665A Old Dominion Drive

McLean, VA 22101

703.917.9025

Mon-Fri : 9am - 7pm

Sat : 8am - 6pm

Sunday 11am - 5pm