During the summer, when it was 34 degrees Celsius, I found my beard was getting too hot. So I decided to shave it all off again. That’s the great thing about beards. Want a beard? Let it grow. No beard, no problem: shave it off and be done with it. Want a beard again? Just let it grow back. At the neighborhood barbecue, my neighbor told me that I should switch to shaving soap instead. My wife then bought a Vergulde Hand shaving soap puck at the drugstore.
The next day, I stood in front of the mirror with my sleepy head and picked up the new shaving soap in its striking yellow plastic tub. I discovered that the shaving soap was rock-hard and therefore couldn’t be applied with my fingers. Pfff, I should have known that, sleepyhead. Of course, I needed a shaving brush too. I could have known that. When I used to stay with my grandparents in Lunteren, I saw my grandfather lathering up shaving soap with a shaving brush almost every morning. As a little seven-year-old boy, I would always stand there fascinated, watching him do it. As a joke, Grandpa would always put shaving foam on my nose. We had great fun in the bathroom with Grandpa. When Grandpa was finished, Grandma would always make those delicious sandwiches with real butter and chocolate sprinkles, and we would go fishing together. Sadly, my grandparents passed away several years ago.
Several weeks passed before my wife—because really, what would I do without her?—bought a simple shaving brush with a wooden handle at the drugstore. The bristles were stiff pig hair. The next morning, I tried shaving again, this time armed with a boar-bristle shaving brush. I wet the shaving brush with warm water, stirred it in the shaving soap for a moment, and sure enough, it started producing a lot of lather. The shaving soap had a familiar, slightly soapy aroma. Nothing special, but not unpleasant either. I spread the shaving foam evenly over my face. Before long, a thick layer of foam had formed on my cheeks and neck. While lathering, I noticed that a few hairs from the shaving brush were sticking to my face. Very annoying. But I carried on.
When I picked up my razor, I noticed that the shaving foam had already partly dried. Hmm, perhaps I hadn’t worked up enough lather. So I stirred the shaving brush in the shaving soap once more and dabbed it back and forth over my cheeks and chin again. Once again, it dried a little, but I started shaving with renewed optimism. Because the shaving foam was drying out, I had to touch up the lather regularly with the shaving brush while shaving. Not exactly convenient, but every beginning is difficult. After shaving, I still had a slight burning sensation in my neck. My skin felt rough, dry, and tight. As usual, I applied a little aftershave balm to my freshly shaved skin. The burning sensation eased somewhat. But I can’t say this was a pleasant shaving experience. I used the shaving soap a few more times, but each time I had the same unpleasant experience: shaving foam that dried quickly and irritated skin. Not exactly a success. After a few weeks, I threw the shaving soap angrily into the trash. Good riddance.
My grandfather never had any problems. He didn’t have to deal with loose hairs from his shaving brush, drying shaving foam, or a burning sensation after shaving. And I did exactly what my grandfather did: wet my face with warm water, apply shaving foam with a shaving brush, and shave carefully with the razor. So it wasn’t me—it was that lousy shaving soap. I need to start looking for better shaving gear. To be continued.
