Monday, February 8, 2010

39. A barber of reknown

There was a time when all barbers were called “Luigi”, even when christened “Frank”. It accompanied the immaculate college-cut, turning short, plumpish Italian romeos into dapper womanisers with the feintest of grey and the largest of egos.

One such, Frank by name and by nature, ran a salon on the railway end of St John’s Avenue for over a quarter of a century, eventually attracting the manicured business type in a fine pin-stripe with the hint of pink in a button-down Gloweave, as well as the lad in his blue singlet and concrete-spattered ankle-protectors.

No sooner was the chair pumped and the paper whipped around the neck, than Frank was working his scissors in time to his larynx, the black fine-toothed comb flicking up the wayward ends, tumbling wisps of hair to ignominy on the floor below.

Frank, of course, was a font of wisdom on the machinations at Inter.


freefalling said...

What's Inter?
Wanna see my Frank?

Joan Elizabeth said...

Yeh what is an Inter???

You have such a wealth of detail in your head that you draw on.

diane said...

I've seen Frank alias Luigi skipping around his charge, scissors held aloft and chattering in his accented lilt. But I don't understand what he's talking about.

Vicki said...

I can so see, hear and smell this scene, Julie.

I meant to say in my earlier comment that “tell” does have it place. To show everything would be tedious. This has a lovely balance.

Julie said...

I try not to explain, but thought it might help to know that "Inter" is what the Milano football (soccer) team is known as by afficionasos.

Julie said...

Also, I am very late with today's post as I have been gadding with both my brothers since Sunday. One lives in Newcastle and the other in Wauchope. I tend to see them twice a year.