Indeed there is something restful and soothing to the average male
adult in the feel of a sharp razor being guided over a bristly
jowl by a deft and skillful hand, to the accompaniment of a gentle
grating sound and followed by a sensation of transient silken
smoothness. Nor do I refer to the barber's habit of conversation.
After all, a barber is human--he has to talk to somebody, and it
might as well be you. If he didn't have you to talk to he'd have
to talk to another barber, and that would be no treat to him.

What I do refer to is that which precedes a shave and more
especially that which follows after it. You rush in for a shave.
In ten minutes you have an engagement to be married or something
else important, and you want a shave and you want it quick. Does
the barber take cognizance of the emergency? He does not. Such
would be contrary to the ethics of his calling. Knowing from
your own lips that you want a shave and that's positively all, he
nevertheless is instantly filled with a burning desire to equip
you with a large number of other things. In this regard the
barbering profession has much in common with the haberdashering or
gents'-furnishing profession as practiced in our larger cities.
You invade a haberdashering establishment for the purpose, let us
say, of investing in a plain and simple pair of half hose, price
twenty-five cents. That emphatically is all that you do desire.
You so state in plain, simple language, using the shorter and
uglier word socks.

Does the youth in the pale mauve shirt with the marquise ring on
the little finger of the left hand rest content with this? Need I
answer this question? In succession he tries to sell you a fancy
waistcoat with large pearl buttons, a broken lot of silk pajamas,