To say I err a little bit towards the furry end of the spectrum would be a complete misrepresentation: I’m one of the furriest buggers in the galaxy; if I could speak Wookiee, I’d make a perfect spy for the Empire to infiltrate their stronghold on Kashyyyk, with barely any need for hair or makeup. When I’d been exploring the wondrously tall canopies of the giant sequoia forests in Yosemite and north of the Golden Gate Bridge, there was talk of sightings of the mythical sasquatch on the loose. I would say Bigfoot, but I’m only a ten-and-a-half shoe.
As you can imagine from the colourful picture painted above, the hair on my head varies daily between the good, the bad, and the ugly. Mainly the latter two if I’m to stay true to the narrative. Some days it’s curly, straight up, cornrows (really), a mohawk (yes, really), in my mouth(!), and just about bloody everywhere. If Jackson Pollock designed a scalp, it would be mine.
Consequently, I’ve always had a rather laissez-faire attitude towards my grooming regime. A haircut would be a rare occurrence, and one with change from a tenner at that; being brought up by a Scotsman born in the 1930s left me with a healthy scepticism for gentlemen’s grooming exceeding the sacred £10 barrier for many years.
We didn’t have “readily available”, shall we say, gentlemen’s grooming in the context we have now though. Only up until very recently, one would have to step through the time warp (and your tailor, shirtmaker and shoemaker to qualify your entry) and traverse into St James’s to get the full experience – cigar in hand, of course. Certainly, where I grew up in the Midlands, you could have anything yer likes. As long as it was a short back and sides. We won’t even start on “gel”
One mould-breaker who has taken the craft into the modern age is Hak Tevfik. At the helm of over five generations of experience on the sharp end of the business, the fruits of these dynastic labours have now sat in the King’s Road for several years, and business booms as more fellow yetis decide to take this haircut game more seriously.
A friendly welcome, some ice-cold water (on a hot day coupled with the best air conditioning anywhere) and a cup of coffee set you off nicely in this calming, Turkish oasis. Then you experience something akin to what I can only imagine the motor feels at the carwash when one says, “give her the works, guv”.
This turned out to be a day of many firsts indeed: my manicure and hand massage was a pleasing start. The illegality of keeping that cigar wedged in hand, as of 2007, must be quite the boon to that particular industry. The only embarrassment is that everyone on the top deck of the 22 bus gets a front row seat for the performance; I can deal with that. It is 2017, after all. The best haircut I’ve ever had shortly followed, and a razor blade in Chelsea being put to correct use – for a “proper shave”, as we call it, before the final tidying up of what used to look a lot like a more rotund, pre-rescue Castaway Tom Hanks.
The full Haks Oscar experience is truly immersive, thorough, comfortable, friendly, and everything the client desires from such an expertly thought out and well-executed experience. No hair is left untrimmed, and no pore left untreated. Gentlemen’s grooming did not just become a fad a few years ago, only to be swept away with the trimmings on the floor. With facial operating theatres in town such as Haks Oscar offering such a professional service, dedicated to every need of the client, I’m sorry to report that the Sasquatch population is sure to plummet even further.
haksoscar.co.uk 020 7751 4394 319 King's Road Chelsea SW3 5EP