Three gentlemen. Three settings.
A grooming appointment is a small ceremony. What follows are three of ours , shared with the gracious permission of the gentlemen at the center of them, each in the community he calls home.
Tom Pilecki
A West Palm Beach residence of Spanish-tile roofs and courtyard fountains , wide verandas, hibiscus in bloom, and a library that keeps its afternoon light well into evening.
Tom has kept a standing appointment with us for five years. We meet in the same quiet sitting room off the main corridor, the one with the tall windows and the two green wingback chairs. A hot towel, a careful trim, an unhurried conversation about his grandchildren and the White Sox. He arrives in a jacket and leaves in the same one, only sharper.
A quiet sitting room, tall windows, and two green wingback chairs.
Every other Thursday. Hot towel, careful trim, unhurried conversation.
“Five years now. He knows my hair better than my barber of thirty years ever did.”, Tom Pileski
Alan Cornet
A South Florida community warmed by ceramic tile floors, palm shade, and the easy back-and-forth of English and Spanish in the courtyard. The kind of place where a good afternoon is measured in unhurried hours.
Alan and I have kept a standing appointment for four years. We work in the light of his corner window, a linen towel across his shoulders, silver combs laid out on the sideboard, and, more often than not, a small cortadito he has ready before I arrive. He is a man who takes his appearance seriously and expects the same of the man holding the shears. We have never disappointed each other.
A corner window, palm-filtered light, and a cortadito on the sideboard.
A monthly cut and shave, kept for four years without a missed date.
“Kelvin is family now. He walks in, and I remember the man in the mirror.”, Alan Cornet
Walter Ryker
A coastal residence of coral-stone terraces and ocean-facing verandas , the sort of address where evening jackets still find their way to dinner, and the surf keeps time in the background of every conversation.
Walter is a gentleman of the old school, navy blazer, brass buttons, a linen pocket square folded into a considered peak. We meet on his terrace when the weather agrees and in his study when it does not. The routine is exact: cut, straight-razor edge, a light dressing of pomade, and a final inspection in the mirror before the barber's cape comes off. He offers his hand at the end of every appointment. We shake on the standard we both keep.
An ocean-facing terrace, coral stone underfoot, and the surf keeping time.
Cut, straight-razor edge, a light dressing of pomade, and a handshake at the close.
“A man ought to look like himself, only better. Kelvin has never sent me back into the world looking otherwise.”, Walter Ryker