The Joy of Shaving

Men aren't really supposed to take much notice of their toilet. Fostered by boarding school, the 'manly' approach is to shower and shave and throw on some clothes, and be ready for action within minutes of getting out of bed. 

Of course school wasn't like that anyway. The showers were in the cellars along with the tin baths that one took after games and in practice one dressed before shaving quickly in a basin to avoid the cold. A quick brush or comb of the hair was then all that was required before rushing down to breakfast. 

Men are now take more trouble over their toilet, although still far less than women. But we are creatures of habit and my morning regime has for years taken me 20 minutes from getting out of bed to going downstairs. 

Rising, I pull back the covers to air the bed and go straight into the bathroom carrying the glass from which I have sipped diluted lime juice through the night, and wash it. The bathroom is fortunately kept warm with a towel rail that also dries the towels. I dry the glass on a thin towel before turning on the shower and doing my teeth. The shower heats up and begins to steam up the shower door as I finish, so I take off my sleeping gown and hang it behind the door - where my shirt has been hanging warm and dry since I undressed the night before. I shower - washing my hair with shampoo and then cleaning myself with a shower cream on a rough Japanese shower cloth that is long enough to allow one to scrub one's own back. After rinsing myself, I squeegee-down the shower and emerge to a warm bath-towel and dry myself. Fortunately the bathroom is warm enough (20c+) to stand naked and complete my toilet before the basin. The towel is hung back on the towel rail to dry. 

I apply Hydrodemol cream all over with another long rough towel that allows me to reach my back. Both creams were originally prescribed by the doctor whom I saw when suffering from psoriasis in 2017. when he told me not to use the usual proprietary shower creams, but I now buy them myself. 

Next, I apply Vichy roll-on underarm deodorant. Then, while running the tap for hot water, I put some gel in my towel-dry hair and comb it in. It takes exactly 100 stokes to get it combed in so that my hair dries without looking a mess (though I have to comb the gel it out later or it looks a bit slick). Having done that, there is enough hot water in the basin to shave with.

Shaving is one of men's few grooming pleasures, but it's also learned skill.  First, the tools must be good quality - you need a badger-hair brush and a decent razor. I used a gold-plated Solingen razor for many years, but it only took double blades and when the four and five bladed Wilkinson razors came along, I found that they gave a better shave. 

Typical bathroom kit 

Next, one needs a good shaving cream. Mine comes from Taylor's of Old Bond St (though the shop is in Jermyn St). It's a fine sandalwood cream that I first discovered through Sam Bartowsik.  I used to also get it for my father. Its consistency is just right - firm in the bowl so that one doesn't get too much on the brush, but wonderfully smooth when brushed on a wet soapy face. And it's this consistency that's almost the most important thing in shaving well - a warm wet soapy face onto which one brushes the cream. Brushing the cream either onto dry skin or onto wet skin without soap doesn't work and the shave is unsatisfactory. In fact, the best result is achieved if one dips the loaded brush lightly into the hot water before lathering one's face so that the consistency is perfect. Of course, the water must be hot, as it opens the pores so that more of the hairs are exposed. If one does not shave in hot water, the beard remains 'closed' and one risks creating blackheads by forcing hairs down into the skin. The water and cream also soften the beard, and shaving after a hot shower adds to this effect

The shave itself starts under the right sideboard and is always drawn downwards in a clean stroke with no sideways movement. Even the slightest sideways movement of the razor head - or a turn of the head to the same effect - can result in a nick or cut. Of course one can draw the blade horizontally across the face as one does in the chin area, but the head of the razor must always be drawn in the same direction so that it never slices sideways. The razor is rinsed in the hot water after every stroke so that soap doesn't build up and clog the blades. 

The first shave being completed, I take up a tiny amount more cream on the tip of the brush, touch the surface of the hot water again to moisten it and then apply a second coat. Neither coat should be too thick or the blade will quickly clog up. The second shave can be performed 'against the grain' of the beard, particularly on the neck and under the chin. Careful attention should be paid to the nose and the upper lip area which are tricky to manoeuvre. I have counted that a full shave takes about 200 strokes. When one has finished, I rinse the razor and dry it, and rinse the brush and dry it too. After that you splash cold water on your face to 'close the pores' and activate the vagus nerve and dry off. It's this action that creates the most splashing and mess. I use a proprietary gel on my face after shaving to add balm after all the scraping. 

I put on my shirt (warm from hanging behind the door since last night) and use a bathroom spray and sponge to clean the basin and surrounds, as well as a microfibre cloth to polish any bright chrome such as the taps, the shower door handle and the grab handle next to the loo. I will also then weigh myself (only. since February 2020 following my operation) and find that I am still between 73 and 76 kg, depending largely in the state of my bowels. 

I leave the bathroom door open to make sure the bathroom dries out properly, not closing it until I come up after breakfast to make the bed. The clean glass is put back beside the bed and I get dressed and go downstairs. 20 minutes every time.

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