Looking good at my age—especially since I took the radical step of shaving off all my hair—is no easy feat. The old clichés of having a face fit for radio and one only a mother could love remain painfully accurate descriptors of my public-facing façade.
Being bald somewhat limits my ability to reinvent my appearance, unless I resort to wearing hats. Buying me any form of cosmetic enhancement—short of a paper bag—is a challenge. Yet a couple of years ago, I received a novel gift: a voucher for a shave (bonce included) at a nearby Turkish barbers. Given that I wet-shave daily, I assumed the kind gesture would be of limited use. Over the years, I’ve mastered the art of resembling a polished bowling ball without carving chunks out of my scalp. The daily ritual can be a bind, but it spares me from sprouting tufts and resembling, no doubt, a mad scientist.
Then one morning, I skipped the routine and ventured out for a walk with my trusty beanie concealing the prickly barnet, intending to shave later. As I passed First Class Turkish Barbers on Shinfield Road, Reading, an inexplicable urge to check my wallet overtook me—and there it was, my tatty voucher. Moments later, I found myself reclined in a barber’s chair, a hot towel swaddling my head. The sensation alone sent a chill through me, but when the skilled barber—wielding feather-like finesse—began to whisk away the bristles, I felt an overwhelming calm. The image of a cutthroat razor had conjured all manner of gory imaginings, yet it glided across my face like a whisper.
More hot towels followed. Then, a head wash—administered by a secondary party, no less—something I hadn’t experienced in eons. It was a sensory eruption, a symphony of touch and temperature.
As I left that emporium of arousal, I touched my skin, now as smooth as a ripe peach resting on velvet. The pre-pubescence gleamed. Cold air ricocheted off my cranial extremities like the kiss of a fairy. Damn, I felt good.
Indeed, research from the University of Michigan suggests that efforts to look younger—grooming, skincare, styling—can reduce experiences of ageism. That hitherto redundant coupon had metaphorically knocked years off me.
For a brief, glorious moment, beauty was in the eye of the beholder—and I held exclusive rights to that sensational feeling.
© Ian Kirke 2025 & title photograph
@ iankirke.bsky.social