LG23-16: Shave and a Haircut - Two Bits
- Brush: Prometheus Handcrafts "Red and White" 27.5mm Manchurian
- Razor: Carbon Cx-Ti
- Blade: Astra SP (11)
- Lather: Dr. Jon's - Classic - Shaving Soap
- Post Shave: Proraso - Refreshing - After Shave Lotion
- Fragrance: Noble Otter - Hamami
- Passes: WTG, XTG, ATG
- Coffee: West Java. Cijapati, Garut - v: Typica. Tim Tim. Catimor - p: Triple picked. Washed.
- Music: William Tyler - Goes West
- LG Tags:
#FOF
Have you clicked through the links in the Lather Games rulebook's theme descriptions? There's lots of good info in there, including fragrance genre breakdowns and nuanced explanations of what makes a scent on theme for any given day.
Today's link is a must-click. I happened to circle back to the calendar last night and read this post about the structure of barbershop scents; it's the most coherent and thoughtful explanation of a nebulous concept I've encountered, well grounded in both history and culture, the two most significant factors in how we interpret, define, and categorize fragrances. (Speaking of, I chatted with friends yesterday about the significant differences in how notes like jasmine, patchouli, sandalwood, and vetiver are interpreted across the world. I'd love to see a "Lost in Translation" day in next year's calendar.)
Look at the wet shaving products in this category and there are many examples of scents that are "sweet, herbal, spicy, fresh, and very powdery.” That must be how you arrive at wet shaving artisans using the same preblends to signify "barbershop". [Judges, I'm not a memexpert, so I hope this works for you.]
However, the part of this 2018 essay that caught my attention was this qoute:
In the 1900s, the average gentleman wasn't interested in perfuming his body, but he was interested in being clean, and perhaps (if he was wealthy) in scenting the handkerchief in his breast pocket. The "being clean" part is central to understanding the upbringing of the masculine fragrance industry.
If barbershop scents can be reduced down to a historical and regional understanding of freshly-groomed cleanliness, it raises the question: what does clean smell like? It's not the smell of a barbershop itself, which is often full of equipment-cleaning smells, archaic, and varies wildly by region:
I find that when reviewers express confusion about the phrase "barbershop scent," they say things like, "This doesn't smell like any barbershop I've been to." This is a fundamental misinterpretation of the phrase. To say that Drakkar Noir smells like a barbershop scent isn't to imply that Drakkar Noir is used by barbers. Drakkar Noir employs notes and accords that resemble products used for shaving: its lavender and dry-herbal qualities are similar to the scents of common shaving soaps. The phrase extrapolates from a variety of shaving and haircutting products that have been traditionally used, ranging from talcum powders to shaving creams, to even Barbacide and other disinfecting astringents. Barbershop fragrances are typically subjective, based on the barber's region of practice.
I'm convinced by the argument that American barbershop fragrances historically combined notes of sweet floral waters and hair powder, along with the various herbs and aromatics used to scent those products. Pinaud Clubman and Mennen Skin Bracer both come to mind. When not smelling of almond, Italian barbershop products feature a more Mediterranean take on the same structure, combining moss and herbs with a strong citrus component. You can find both fragrances and wet shaving products that reference either regional approach.
Dr. Jon's (RIP) described their barbershop scent Classic as "crisp and fresh." Like many vintage barbershop products in the more European variety, this smell combines "hints of herb, wood, flowers and citrus." With its lack of overt powder or talc, and a squeeze of lime on top of the strong rosemary and lavender, it doesn't read as American (like, say, Ghost Town Barber). Yet it's woody overtones make it feel more representative of Stateside barbershops than Proraso Green—the archetypal Italian aftershave—which, coincidentally, does smell vaguely of talc. Eucalyptus, menthol, and citrus are what dominate the scent, along with a strong lavender and oakmoss fougère base. Both products suggest an understanding of clean grooming that is brisk, aromatic, and lifted by citrus, but with little sweetness.
Yet those specifics don’t apply worldwide. Consider Noble Otter’s wonderful take on the Turkish bathhouse, Hamami. (Noble Otter also makes an American-style barbershop, the "sweet, spicy, powdery" Barrbarr.)
While spas and bathhouses serve a different purpose than a barbershop—full body cleansing versus above-the-chest grooming—the goal is fundamentally the same: cleanliness, achieved in places of relaxation, community, and ritual ablutions. They're kindred spirits. It shouldn't be surprising then, that while the individual notes are different across cultural traditions, the structures of these scents share commonalities.
Noble Otter describes Hamami as a "clean, wet floral fragrance." In place of zesty lemon or lime, there's invigorating bergamot and green petitgrain. Instead of lavender and rosemary, there's a very pretty jasmine mixed with geranium. In place of an oakmoss and patchouli base, there's sandalwood and tonka, though the latter shows up in sweet-leathery barbershop scents too. More than any other element of this fragrance, it's the wet stone note that distinguishes Hamami from other shaving scents, and what most distinguishes humid bathhouse from powdery barbershop. Layering the two in one SOTD is a useful study in composition and contrast.