I can’t abide canned shaving cream. It comes off too antiseptic, for my liking, and in my opinion, does a lousy job of lubricating my face. It goes straight from the can to your hand, and then, you have to smear it on with your palm and fingers, which is always awkward, for me, and then, your hand is covered with the stuff. Yucky, is how it strikes me, what can I say.
Some years back, when I was investigating how to use a straight razor, just for, you know, the sheer experimental archeology of it, and out of curiosity—by the way, if you’ve ever tried to shave with a straight razor, you have some understanding of why men went to the barber for a clean shave, back in the day—I discovered the use of a brush and a dish to make my own shaving foam, and I have never gone back to canned shaving cream, since. The soaps are made especially for shaving, and come in a variety of scents, no small aspect of my attraction for the process of lathering up with the good stuff. The whole experience, in fact, is so darned sensual, I’m almost very nearly too emotionally invested to tell you about it. Almost. It’s wonderful, okay? Before you die, you must try it. Ladies, I can only guess what it would mean to you! For your pits, silly. Not that I’m an advocate, but that’s another story. It’s your body, am I right, ladies? There’s all kinds of beauty. I just happen to be a naturalist. (*grins*)
But, I digress.
Anyway, I have been out of shaving soap for a few days, now. And have been perusing the local shops and supermarkets for a new supply. Guess what? I can’t find it anywhere. A travesty and a horror, I know. So, what do I do? Shop online? You must be kidding. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you can, get this—listen to the radio, on your computer—so, what do I do? I casually linger around in the ladies department, ogling the sweet scented soaps, over there, and what before my wandering eye, should appear, but a fine selection of glycerin soaps, and in tantalizing colors with accompanying scents: Green Apple, Coconut, and oh, heavens to Betsy, Mandarin Orange!! I bought two.
Oh, my, under the influence of warm water, and my vastly experienced shaving brush, what a lather they got themselves into. Look away, if you are the Puritanical sort. I’m about to get in a three way encounter, here. Whew! And after, in the golden glow of the moment, after a moment, and I have caught my breath, I’ll opine, gratefully, “Oh, my, that was a close shave! Thank you.”
~ Tim Burchfield