Thread: Let's Have a Contest-Oh Boy!

Well, it's the dog days of summer though my Husky is as cool as a cucumber. But for most of us it's hot and humid and vacation is over and there's nothing good on T.V so it's a great time to have a contest.

So here is the deal. I want to know how using a straight razor has affected one important facet or incident in your life. Maybe your girlfriend fell madly in love with you because of your great shave or your business client gave you a big contract because you were so clean shaven or maybe using a straight caused you to be late and delayed your purchase of a lottery ticket and because of that you won. Maybe you cut your self real bad and the scar made you really sexy looking or maybe you met someone special in the emergency room. Maybe your honing skills caused you to survive some harrowing incident. You are not confined to a straight specifically but can use related paraphanalia too.

So you get the idea. All entries will be judged for originality and the impact the incident had on your life and will be judged by our mod team.

So what will you win if you are the dog days lucky dog?

I just happen to have a brand spanking new package of Fitjar Lighthouse Bay Rum Soap still in it's original packaging and never touched so that is what the prize will be.

Place your entries right here in this thread and we'll let this run until 9/15 or so.

Okay, I'll bite.

My story isn't overly hilarious, nor filled with wit or suspense. It does, however, hit me right in the chest and, maybe, it will do the same to you, too.

I've mentioned around the forum several times that I have a 5-year-old son. His name is Collin, and he's one of the most intelligent, sweet and thoughtful kids I've ever known. In my biased opinion, he is THE most intelligent, sweet and thoughtful.

So, his whole life, until earlier this year, I had never shaved. Not once. I either had a full beard or used my beard trimmer to cut everything away down to stubble. This means he had never seen me shave and had no idea what shaving was.

Once I started shaving with a straight razor, he saw me doing it and was naturally curious. He began asking me every question that popped into his head, as most little boys are wont to do. I patiently listened and answered in terms his young mind could understand. He thought it was pretty awesome that I was shaving with something that was close to or more than 100 years old. Every time a new razor would come in the mail, he'd remark "That's a cool razor, Daddy... When I grow up, I'm gonna have one just like it."

Well, as time went on, we happened to be in Target (a large retail store for those of you outside the US) and came upon a toy shaving kit, complete with shave brush, mirror, plastic cartridge razor and can of foaming soap. Trying to encourage bath time, I asked if he would like to get it and be able to shave with me, to which he responded in the overjoyed affirmative. That night, he jumped in the tub after I had showered and was about to shave. He broke out his new acquisitions, and went to town.

I'm glad that as a new shaver he was much faster than me.

So, thus began our father/son "shaving" routine. About the third or fourth "shave" in, he happened to comment "Daddy, how come my razor looks different from yours? I think I need to use your razor to do a better job." It just so happened that I had my old shavette laying around, so I took the blade out, and handed it over. The look of joy on his face was as though I'd given him a 40 ton chocolate cake with video games and Santa on top, and he immediately began "lathering up".

On about the 9th "shave", just before I was going to hop in the shower I hear "Daddy! Come here, quick!!" coming from the bathroom. He had taken an old elastic band and tied it to the knob of one of the vanity cabinet doors and was "stropping" away! So, now, his "strop" hangs right next to my SRD strop.

He also decided to commandeer a plastic mug that we got at the circus which is shaped like a clown's head to use as his shaving mug. Let's just say he's still learning how to build a good lather, but he tries as hard as he can.

On days where I'm in a hurry and don't have time to wait for him to have a full bath, he cries that he can't shave with me, and it breaks my heart each time. Suffice it to say that it's rare that this happens now.

So, how has using a straight razor impacted my life?

It's given me something to bond with my son over that no one else can, and something to teach him that no one else will. It's given me something I can pass down to my son, be it knowledge on the art of shaving with a straight razor or the straight razors I have tucked away to give him when he begins cutting hair off of his face, since he's already "shaving" now. It also helps in teaching him patience, as well as expanding my own. And finally, it gives me one more way to be a good father to an even better son.

K, That was so precious

I'm out

I started using a straight razor this spring. Honestly, it's probably the only thing in my life right now that I have control over. Recently, shaving has been my escape from setbacks and hypocrisy. Perhaps I will be able to write about what is going on at a later date. Right now I am too bitter.
In regards to the contest theme, wet shaving has allowed me to keep centered, keep in touch with my dignity as a man, during a rough patch. Thanks for allowing me to vent; there is no need to enter my name for the contest because the chance to get this off my chest is prize enough.

No contest entry here....but wanted to say great job to Crouton! My story would have been very similar, minus the mug...my four year old prefers face lathering with his Spiderman shaving set (also from Target....got it in April for his birthday!).

My son loved using his "foamy soap" that came with his set, but is now convinced that my soaps and creams do a better job. Thankfully I always make too much lather, so we can share!

I also got a nice promotion this week, but I would hope it was based on my skill and experience and not my super smooth skin and clear complexion!!!!

Good luck guys! Look forward to reading more!

my dad was a barber, my grandfather was a barber, so needless to say I grew up in barbershops; at 15 they taught me how to cut hair and use a straight razor and let me cut hair and give hot towel/lather shaves as an apprentice in their shop.....they were both big on having a trade AND a profession....however on my moms side of the family my uncles were car salesmen and had big houses fancy cars etc...so that was more appealing to me, so that's the profession I chose but still cut hair for my friends and family....anyways a few years back my wife of 18 yrs really got tired of being married to a car salesman and put her foot down....the only other thing I knew how to do was barber, so I gave up car sales, got my barbers license and began a new career......now comes the part of my story that relates to the str8 razor....the day I graduated barber college and passed my state board tests and became licensed my father flew in town to congratulate me, and bring me some gifts....1 gift that stands out in particular is a vintage J.A. Henckels Friodur INOX beautiful straight razor.... my father goes on to tell me that my grandfather who fought in WWII got this particular razor from a German soldier he killed in the war and that if I ever got my barber's license he was ordered to give this razor directly to me...now I was excited to get this beautiful razor but at the same time I was a little saddened because I had no idea how much me getting my barber's license meant to my grandfather, had I known I would of gotten licensed while he was still alive.....so now i use this beautiful razor twice a year......on my birthday and his...my grandfather was a great man a great family man and a great soldier...thanks to him and the poor german soldier that lost his life to my grandfather i am now the proud owner of a beautiful friodur inox (with a tremendous backstory).... well that's my str8 razor story and it might not mean much to anyone other than myself, however it gave me the opportunity to tell this story and let everyone know what a great man my grandfather was....thank you very much for the opportunity and congratulations to the winner of this contest, and to the member running the contest thank you for the opportunity you've given me to share this story

Thanks for the contest!

Looking back...

In 1971, before my own marriage, my own kids, cell phones, the internet, the 3.2-liter fuel-injected Porsche flat six and a 1200cc BMW motorcycle, I was 20 years old. Viet Nam was hot and my university grades were not. I decided to quit school and enlist as a regular in the US Army. I had already been doing a little sport parachuting so, I thought, "Airborne sounds good!" And in 1971 it would be fair to say my beard was shaggy and so was my hair. Rather than appear at induction looking like a ragbag I went to see my barber of 15 years, Fred Wallace, in Royal Oak, Michigan.

I said, "Fred, I'm joining the army and I want to look neat and trim at induction. How about you give me a haircut and a shave?"

Fred pointed up to his rate card on the back wall and warned me that a shave was $12.50, union scale, and he could not deviate from scale. Well, in 1971, I almost fell out when he told me how much a shave was - maybe twice that of a haircut at the time. As an indulgence there was no question that a $12 shave was out of reach for me. I remember asking Fred if he ever shaved anyone considering the high price. He said, "Oh yes! Absolutely! I shave someone practically every day. Why, I come in here every morning, turn on the lights, strop my razor and shave myself," he said, "...because if I didn't shave myself I'd forget how to do it!" So I told him I'd have to pass. When he was about finished up with the scissors and clippers he said, "Two bits." And I asked him, "Two bits for what, Fred?" He said, "Good luck in service kid; shave and a haircut, two bits." (Two bits, if you're younger than 50, means twenty-five cents, by the way.) And he leaned me back in the chair, did the multiple hot towel routine, hot lather, lots of stropping and put a razor to my face. He wrapped up with some bay rum and a facial. It was exhilarating! I didn't have to shave for a couple of days and I never forgot it. And, until I was 61 years old and there was a Mrs. Moo, four little Moos, a 3.2 liter Porsche engine, a hot BMW big bike, an internet, cell phones and a web site called Straight Razor Place, it never occurred to me I could shave myself with an open blade. The thought never crossed my mind.

In 2013 I wake up every morning anxious to lather up, strop steel and shave myself, old school. My skin has never felt or looked better and my cheeks haven't been smoother since Fred Wallace packed me (and my first open bladed shave) off to Fort Knox for basic training. The morning shave renews my memory of days gone by, Fred the barber, my long gone dear old man with his double-bladed gold razor and bright white Palmolive lather from a green metal tube. The old man had a love affair with witch hazel, by the way, and he always smiled as he rubbed it on when his morning shave was over. This I remember, from watching him as a child, wondering when I would get to shave. A shave gives me a moment of peace first thing in the day that brings me to my own center, plants me firmly in my own thoughts and, almost always after a towel-pat and a witch hazel rub, leaves me with a smile. If learning how to shave with an open blade, and to shave well by the way, hasn't changed my life it has reminded me of forgotten things and places and people and moments in time that now enrich me.

My boy is now 33 years old; he is a terrific son and a model father. Unfortunately, when he grew up he only saw his old man with a beard and a Norelco Triple Header shaver. When I feel expert enough I will teach him how to shave. If I don't change his life perhaps his memories will be a bit more enriched, like mine, when I am gone.

A shave has connected me to my father and my son. And myself.

Originally Posted by MisterMoo

A shave has connected me to my father and my son. And myself.

This sentence really strikes home for me. I remember watching my grandfather strop, hone and shave with his straight razor. I now have that razor and hone, a Frictionite 00. My uncle, when he was in the US Army would strop his straight razor on his leather Army boots. Both have now passed on. There was one day a few years ago that as I was shaving, I suddenly felt a connection with the both of them. I was in a continuum of shaving tradition. I had taken my place. I was now, one of them. It was a good day.

keep em coming guys.

That soap is really worth it.

No matter who wins, I want to thank you, spendur, for offering up the spoils of such a fine contest! I just realized I forgot to say this in my post!