Wednesday afternoon found me desperate to get a haircut. I hadn’t had one since mid-June and things were getting quite a bit out of hand above the brow. Just prior to my first trip to Japan I shaved my head, and as such had no use for a haircut while I was there. Accordingly, Wednesday was to be my first time setting foot inside a Japanese salon. That lengthy build-up might seem a bit unnecessary, after all haircutting is haircutting, right? No, not right. Sit back, relax, and allow me to regale you with tales of such splendor your eyes will grow as big as side-plates…

Satoshi came along as well, and we added our names to the waiting list without difficulty. I then took my seat on a nice comfortable couch and contemplated the meaning of their “Pro Cut,” for which I had agreed to pay 1575Y ($13.50~). I’ve had my hair cut at a lot of places, and every single one of them in turn has promised me a “Pro Cut.” It certainly wouldn’t be wise to advertise “Amatuer Cuts” now would it? So while their rationale is understandable, the levels of skill with which my head has been attacked have varied wildly. Bearing all this in mind, I adjusted my manner of sitting on the couch, and reached for the nearest glossy magazine…

My oh my, that coyly smiling woman seems to have lost her top! Oh dear, her friend on the next page is in an even worse condition, having lost both her top and her bottoms! Ahh yes, Japan, if there was ever a country more opposite of the US when it comes to sexual mores, this would be it. You see in the US, we love sex. We have it a lot, oftentimes for no good reason, and we love nothing more than glorifying promiscuous behavior on tv and in song.

However, don’t you DARE show a nice set of reproductive organs in print you naughty naughty man! What kind of pervert wants to see naked women in a magazine (especially when he can see them in a movie…)?? The reality is – for a country that so vigorously pursues sexual pleasure, the US is damn prudish when it comes to actually admitting it likes these sorts of things, be that through TV, movies, or print media.

In Japan on the other hand, sex, especially during marriage, is still largely viewed through the lens of ‘necessary’ instead of the lens of ‘fun.’ Men, and occasionally women, tend to find their sexual gratification outside of established relationships, be it as a solo venture with some form of media, or some hired help. The end result is a society in which sex is a taboo topic to discuss, but in which is it also ok for me to sit in a barber’s chair having my haircut and look at pictures of naked Japanese girls with no regard given to “who might see!?!” — which seems to be the primary concern Stateside…

So, to return to the original topic, I grabbed the first magazine I saw and was rewarded for my selection with soft-core porn. Certainly nothing we all haven’t seen before, so why can’t we be mature about this back home?

At a brief interval my name was called and a stylist’s apprentice, who from now on will be known as Shampoo-Boy, led me to the sink. Shampoo-Boy, who looked to be about 20ish, then gently washed my hair, taking great pains not to get a single drop of water on anything *but* my hair, and then did a marvelous job drying me off and leading me to my stylist’s chair. To be honest, when he left to go attend to Satoshi, I was saddened. I had felt for the brief minute we spent in idle chit-chat whilst my hair was being washed, that Shampoo-Boy and I had made a nice connection… Oh well.

My stylist, who’s hair was immaculate (this is an obvious requirement, you don’t take exercise lessons from fat people now do you?), handed me a style book and had me pick out what I wanted. At this point my only desire was short, so we quickly had something selected and began the work. Now I calculate, that on average I go in for a haircut perhaps once every 3 months, to estimate conservatively. This would mean I get about 4 cuts a year, and therefore have had nearly 88 haircuts in my life, although the first few years can be tossed as parents often just let their kids run shaggy. In any case, the point is I’ve had a plethora of haircuts, and this one, without hesitation, was by far the most thorough and amazing haircut I’ve ever had.

My stylist, who will from now on be referred to as Not-Obviously-Gay-But-Probably-Is-Per-The-Universal-Law-Of-Haircutting-Guy, took well over 45 minutes to cut my hair. I asked for it short, a procedure in the US which would have resulted in 5 minutes or so of electric razor in the sides and back and then another 10 minutes spent clipping the top, coming out to about $15 with tip. Come to think of it, there was not a single electric razor in the whole place, at least that I saw. Even so, Not-Obviously-Gay-But-Probably-Is-Per-The-Universal-Law-Of-Haircutting-Guy gave me the greatest fade up the sides and back I’ve ever had, and did it with scissors – no easy task.

The methodical pace of his work, and his exacting attentions, made it seem as if he was carving the next David from a block of solid marble, armed only with his trusty scissors. To the men who read this – have you *ever* had a stylist use his fingers to feel the contours of your skull and thereby determine the best way to layer your hair so that it falls perfectly and naturally every time? Neither had I, until Wednesday.

Not-Obviously-Gay-But-Probably-Is-Per-The-Universal-Law-Of-Haircutting-Guy gave me a haircut that *fits* my head so well, it’s as if each and every hair has been pasted on. This is not a feeling I can easily and adequately describe in words for it’s the first time I’ve ever experienced it. I guess just imagine that you were completely and perfectly bald, and then someone affixed permanently to your head a wig that was so well made that it would fit no one in the world but you – that is the feeling I get when I run my hand over my hair, or my fingers through it.

Once Not-Obviously-Gay-But-Probably-Is-Per-The-Universal-Law-Of-Haircutting-Guy had finished his masterpiece, it was up to Shampoo-Boy to close out the deal. Shampoo-Boy took me back to the sink and proceeded to wash out every last bit of loose clipped hair. I think for ladies this isn’t really a concern because of the nature of the average woman’s hair length, but for a man, going to get a haircut always comes with the uncomfortable itchiness that we must suffer before we can get home and wash out all the short little bits that were left in our hair and have been steadily falling between our neck and our collar ever since we left the salon. Shampoo-Boy, however, does not believe in such a policy, and rinsed my hair accordingly.

If the day had ended there, it would have already been worth the money spent, but it did not. As a final act of awesomeness, Shampoo-Boy led me back to the chair once again, sat me down, and gave me a 5 minute scalp, neck, and shoulder massage, and then, only then, did they direct me to the register. So, to summarize, for a measly $13.50 (remember, no tipping in Japan), I got to guiltlessly look at cute naked Japanese girls while I waited for my name to be called, was given the best haircut of my life, had all the itchy bits washed out when it was over, and received a 5 minute massage to close things out.

All I have left to say is that I wish my hair grew about 4x faster than it does, because then I’d have an excuse to go every week!