The Beard Stays

They have weird power outlets in Europe, so if you want to use an American appliance, you have to use an adapter. You probably knew that. But did you also know that there are different adapters for different voltages? I didn't, which is how I fried my beautiful electric razor, which I bought from Amazon after reading all the customer reviews, and which cut through a thick beard like Uma Thurman through ninjas -- not like your usual commercial variety, which seems to be modeled after the Suck Kut ("It certainly does suck...").

Losing the electric razor disrupted the natural equilibrium that had developed on my face (see Figure 1) and gave way pretty much immediately to a downward spiral (Figure 2).



People always ask, "Are you growing a beard?" like it's something you do, like you sit in front of the mirror and extrude hair from your pores by sheer force of will. I'm not growing a beard, I just stopped shaving. For me the beard is less an ethos than a vestige of laziness.

Brad at Zingerman's suggested that I should strive to see shaving not as a chore, but as a socially acceptable opportunity to pamper oneself. I like that idea. In my freshman year dorm there was a sign posted above the urinal in the men's restroom that read, "No fear, no doubt." My RA put it there after I mentioned to him that the restroom is one of the few places in my life where I experience neither fear nor doubt. I have a lot of experience in there. I've got a system that works.

So rather than strip the shaving process down to its essentials, I'm thinking about ways to build it into a satisfying ritual: straight razor, badger hair brush, maybe some aftershave, whatever the hell that is.