The sly smile, the deep, inviting brown eyes you can get lost in. The imperfect nose, that used to be perfect until Eddie Petroff broke it in junior high (whole other post). The distinguished, full and luxurious silver mane. The proudly displayed crow's feet around those knowing brown eyes that say, "Yes, I've lived a life, I know things you don't and I'm ready for more."
When you take all that into consideration, the question really becomes why would I ever want to hide a face like that? The answer would be so I don't have to shave it.
A long time ago, in a life far, far away, I sported a full beard. It was a popular look at the time, and while I thought it made me look serious and intense like Al Pacino in Serpico, or compassionate and magnetic like Jesus, the truth is it was probably closer to Hagrid or Carlos the Jackal.
Still, it served the purpose. I didn't have to drag a razor across my sensitive skin every morning, or afternoon or whenever the hell I woke up. I'm freelance. Sometimes it's all a blur.
Over the years I tried various versions of the beard: A goatee. A mustache. A soul patch. The full Amish. But the problem with all of them was that I had to do some degree of shaving. And not just shaving, precision shaving to keep the lines straight.
I finally settled on a goatee for a number of years.
Fast forward to one of our annual trips to the Hotel Del Coronado. I was out by the pool, and between the Bloody Mary's and banana smoothies (I never was much of a swimmer), I had an epiphany.
An epiphany is three parts tequila and one part pineapple juice.
Then, I had a realization. I couldn't deny the world this face any longer. That, and I didn't want the weird sunburn lines I was getting. So with my rusty seventy-nine cent plastic Bic blade, scalding water and a lot of effort, I was off to the races.
When I got back from the races, I shaved the goatee.
Even though I didn't like the process, I did like what I saw. So for a few years now I've endured the unpleasantness of shaving every morning. Nothing good comes easy.
Then, Father's Day rolled around. And instead of another ten black t-shirts, gift certificates to AMC Theaters and dinner at Walt's Wharf, my son got me one of the best gifts ever: a membership in the Dollar Shave Club.
The initial kit comes with a tube of Dr. Carver's easy Shave Butter, Dr. Carver's magnanimous Post Shave Daily All-In-One Moisturizer and one of three mighty razors - in my case, The Executive, with six stubble-hating stainless steel blades of fury. I get four cartridges a month, so the blades never have the chance to get, how you say, unusable.
For a guy who was used to speed shaving with a Bic in the shower while racing to get to work, taking a little extra time to do it right took some getting used to. But well worth it.
The feeling is extraordinary. It's a closer shave than I ever thought possible, and once you've experienced the silky smoothness of Shave Butter you'll never go back to foam (or hot water) again. I can see my skin glow, and not just from my years at the nuclear plant. I now look forward to shaving every day.
It also doesn't hurt that the DSC website is one of the funniest, best written sites on the interwebs. Here's just a little sample of what you'll find when you click:
I don't usually endorse products or services on this blog. After all, I want to maintain what little integrity I have left. I try to stay impartial. I feel I owe that to my ten readers.
Nonetheless, I'd strongly recommend you give DSC a try. If not for the best shave of your life, then at least for the comic relief.
By the way, DSC also has a product called One Wipe Charlies. I'm still working my way up, er, down to those.
