 |
By Lillian Weiss
Photography by David
Michael Howarth |
|
There's something archaic, yet satisfying, about
the presence of barber poles on arteries like Kings Highway
and Berlin Road. Though the juxtaposition is odd, it is, to
some, a welcome glimpse of a past perceived as simpler and
slower. The horses grazing at Stafford's Farm on White Horse
Road are a little like that too. Holly Ravine Farm used to do
that for folks, who engaged in the ante-upscale suburban act
of feeding goats as traffic buzzed by on Evesham and
Springdale Roads, before WAWA and its neighbors gave us more
and bigger ways to spend our pennies.
Barbers and their poles are anachronisms in an
age of pretentious, gleaming,massive, high-tech salons where
the majority of the stylists look much better than their
clients, before or after services. Even the word, barber,
which stems from the Latin "barba" - for beard - is less sexy
than the term, stylist. Few stylists would be caught dead
calling themselves barbers; but then, how many of the salon
set would dream of going to a barber? So, who goes to barbers
nowadays? And who are these guys who are men enough to call
themselves barbers?
In "Looks Good," Mike Vozzelli's barber shop on
Berlin Road in Cherry Hill, don't look for fancy dames or guys
in hip hugging jeans. Set your sights on a wall with pictures
of celebrities like Sid Mark (a customer) and Bill and Mrs.
Campbell (the Mrs.is a regular; Vozzelli's wife, Pam,cuts her
hair) and Sinatra (just because). Mike's been in the business
for 35 years, and went to barber school when independent
barber schools were run under the auspices of the Board of
Barber Examiners,a now defunct entity. He's a third generation
barber, following an Italian and family tradition. His
grandfather had a shop on Front and Indiana in Philadelphia.
But Mike didn't always want to make a living like his dad and
grandfather. As a child, he was turned off by it. Before
coming to the U.S., Mike's grandfather was a barber in Italy.
He cut the hair and shaved the beards of workers in a mill
where sheep shearers brought their wool. "I grew up
associating sheep shearing with being a barber." When he
entered the armed forces and went to Europe, he had a change
of heart. "In Europe, I saw no distinction between barber
shops and salons. All were coiffures. It was more than just
cutting hair off. They styled hair and I saw that barbering
could be artistic."
 |
|
"Barbering really teaches you how to
handle the tools, which are nothing more than an
extension of your hands."
Mike Vozzelli
Looks
Good barber shop
|
Mike also learned that barbers have an
auspicious and prestigious history. In primitive times,
barbers were the foremost men of their tribes - the medicine
men and priests. It seems primitive people believed that good
and bad spirits entered the body through the hair on the head.
Since the bad spirits could only be driven out by the
individual cutting the hair, the barber was the BMOC. Barbers
got to arrange all marriages and baptize the kids and were
chief figures in religious ceremonies.
During the Middle Ages, barbers were actually
surgeons, practicing "bloodletting"to cure ills. In fact, the
predecessor of the modern barber pole came into the picture
then. The two spiral ribbons painted around the pole today
represent the two long bandages, one twisted around the arm
before bleeding and the other used to bind it afterward, which
used to hang on the poles in Medieval times.
Mike has always had a barber pole in front of
his shop. Apart from that distinguishing feature, he thinks
other factors set barbers apart from other people who cut
hair. He says that barbers know more about the art, "It takes
two years to know how to cut hair, but it takes five years to
know why." Hmmm.
On a less philosophical note, Mike talks about
some more differences. "Barbering really teaches you how to
handle the tools, which are nothing more than an extension of
your hands." He shows his prowess using a razor made of cobalt
steel, sharpening it on a Belgian stone called a hone. Then he
slides the razor up and down against Irish linen on a strop
(which looks like a belt) attached to one of the two chairs in
his barber shop. "A razor is like a microscopic saw and
stroking the razor on the Irish linen removes bent teeth."
Turning the strop over, he rubs the razor against the tan
leather underside to straighten the blades. He says barbers
are trained to give a really close shave, and stresses its
importance. "You stretch the skin, the stroke follows the
point - it's like cutting butter. My father taught me that a
haircut without a shave around the neck is like a picture
without a frame."
People still come to him for shaves. They like
the warm towels, and the latherizer he uses dispenses smooth,
light and, most rewarding of all, heated, shave cream. "About
50 years ago, before Gillette invented the safety razor,
people got shaved by a barber or did it themselves at their
own risk. My grandfather used to have a shop full of people on
Saturday morning waiting for him to open his shop, for shaves
only."
One of his tools is a forty-year old flat top
comb, made of hand tooled aluminum. He still gets asked for
flat tops. "A lot of the Cherry Hill cops get them." His wife,
Pam, says that someone who can't give a flat top haircut is
not a real barber. "We had a girl come in saying she was a
barber, but I knew she wasn't a barber - she didn't even know
what a flat top comb was for."
Mike's shears are a precious commodity. "They're
worth $400 - haven't had to sharpen them in years. Shears are
like a fountain pen or the clutch in your car. If someone else
uses it, it's never the same. I'm the only one who uses my
shears. I was trained as a butcher too, and the same thing
applies to a boning knife. I could use a boning knife for
months without getting it sharpened - unless someone else used
the knife."
Mike has the gift of gab, but he knows when to
keep quiet. He says being a barber is a little like being a
psychiatrist. "The best thing I can do is just listen and let
them vent."
On Kings Highway in Haddonfield, right near the
High-Speed Line, sits the oldest barber shop in all of New
Jersey, opened by the Caravelli family, who still live behind
the shop. Mike Fiore, a third generation barber, and friend of
the Caravelli's, has owned and operated it since '99. "I
welcomed the challenge of keeping the tradition going and
building on it." Many years ago, Fiore learned barbering
through an 18-month apprenticeship under a master barber and
took a test in Trenton for haircutting and shaving.
On June 1st, 2002, the shop celebrated its 100th
anniversary, giving out haircuts at 1902 prices - 25 cents a
cut. Their regular prices are pretty good too. A haircut is 12
bucks, and seniors pay only $11. Fiore says that the shop's
founder, Fred, was a Wharton grad who served in W.W.II as
Eisenhower's attache'. He cut hair every day of his life; two
New Jersey governors came to his shop. Fiore says, "It was the
pleasure of his life."
Mike Fiore has another barber with him, Michael
Grobman, affectionately called KGB. He's from Moscow, where he
learned to be a barber and worked in an 18 chair shop, which
had two shifts. On Saturdays, Mike Giampietro, who's been with
the shop for over 30 years, comes to work in this 4 chair
shop.
The shop's hours are from 7 A.M. to 5:30 P.M.
and on Saturdays, the store opens incredibly early: 6 A.M.and
closes at 4. "A lot of golfers come in on Saturday mornings
before they go play. A lot of senior citizens get up early,
come in to have a cup of coffee, read the paper and get a
haircut. They'll be outside before 6 A.M., waiting for us. We
get some businessmen too, early."
Fiore attributes the shop's longevity and
success to a few factors. "We give traditional haircuts,
shaves, razor cuts, facial massages, and there's an ambience
that's appreciated by our clientele. In addition, we pride
ourselves in mastering all the modern haircuts." The shop does
have a certain ambience and respect for tradition. The cash
register is the original used to open the shop in 1902; it
only goes up to $1.90 and doesn't tally, but it sure is
pretty. Rows of lather mugs are neatly displayed upon shelves,
bearing the names of long-time clients.
Fiore sometimes cuts folks a break, even with
the already low prices. Although it doesn't happen too often,
sometimes he can tell that a customer is in dire straits. "If
it's the first of the month and it's obvious the guy let his
hair grow long and waited for his check before he could get a
haircut, I consider that."
On Kings Highway in Cherry Hill, across the way
from the library, is Unique Barber Shop, in a microscopic
strip mall containing a manicurist's shop and flower boutique.
The shop moved from its former location on Route 70 West. The
old fashioned feel comes from the barbers who work there. They
are lovely Italian men with heavy accents and a traditional
outlook on life and hair. This shop is only open from 8 to 4,
weekdays, and 8-2 on Saturday. Clients can watch television as
they are cut and combed; "Trackside Live" is one show of
choice. One customer tells the barber to make it nice and
short. "Put it this way; make me handsome. Oh, I forgot,
you're a barber not a magician."
He promises, "I make you look ten years
younger."
"You'd have to cut my head off."
This is a five chair shop, with a green motif,
an ornate gilt mirror on the wall, and the obligatory picture
of Sinatra. A sign reads, "Although we take turns, feel free
to choose your own barber." The prices are hard to beat.
Haircuts are 10 dollars and you can get your beard trimmed for
only $3. They don't give razor cuts or shaves, explaining that
it doesn't pay to keep the lotions around because there isn't
enough of a demand for those services. A few men drop in, two
with little hair to cut. One of them asks the barber to
conceal a ridge in the back of his head, or his wife will be
mad. The barber responds, "Today, it's a woman's world. Got to
keep the ladies happy."
A 20-something guy tells the barber he's going
to Cancun and hope's the weather's good. "Otherwise my
girlfriend and I will have to do indoor sports." What a deal.
A man can get a haircut, in the company solely of other men
where he can freely talk about his wife, girlfriend or women
in general, catch the racing results, and only shell out ten
bucks. No wonder men still go to barbers.
Home::About Us::Contact
Us::Advertisers::Media
Kit
© 2002 - SJ Magazine::Privacy
Policy
9002 Suite H - Lincoln Drive West, Marlton NJ
08053
Phone (856) 810-7743 | Fax(856) 810-7796 | feedback@sjmagazine.com
|
|
|
