In my time as a Hobokenite, I have yet to risk a haircut here. Haircuts are a pretty personal action and entail some trust in your barber. They are tasked with deciphering and executing my likely poor description of what I want the back of my head to look like — a sight that continuously eludes me but is seen by all those around me. I’ve encountered multiple anonymous posts to the Hoboken and Jersey City Locals Facebook group of individuals looking for advice on how to ‘break up’ with their haircutter, and I think the fact that these individuals feel the need to obscure their identity aptly summarizes the surprisingly intimate relationship level of a haircutter/haircutee.
I have a dressy event on the horizon, and I am in the market for a trim. In the past, when in need of a haircut, I would simply delay until a visit home to return to Marie — a talented and kind lady who runs a salon out of her home. Marie doesn’t advertise — it’s a word-of-mouth type of thing. My mom’s friend had put her on, and my mom in turn invited me to tag along with her. Marie has cut my hair for upwards of six years now, and has received all of my major life updates in hour-long sessions at ~four months increments ever since. She’s seen me through the college application process, done my hair for prom, and renewed me after a major college heartbreak when I returned home with my tail between my legs. Aside from the whole absence of rapport with these Hoboken barbers, I would also just miss chit chatting with Marie and hearing about what her son and daughters are up to these days. Your hairdresser is a person you are choosing to have a conversation with as well.
In a pinch during freshman year, I cut my own hair, which honestly if you haven’t tried it yet, is not as bad as you might think it would be. The first time I cut my hair was during the pandemic when I didn’t have much else of a choice, but the stakes were also low — only my immediate family would be seeing me for the foreseeable future. Both occasions of my self-hair cuttery luckily went off without a hitch, but I would not consider myself nearly skilled enough to cut it regularly; much less so other peoples’ hair. A few of my friends recently made the transition to Hoboken salons, and while they have all spoken positively about their experiences, I’m still on the fence on whether or not to make the trek home for this upcoming cut. Maybe it’s time to make the switch.
P.S. An insane statistic I heard a while ago is that licensed barbers, on average, require more training (1,300 hours) than badged police officers (650 hours). It is crazy that it takes more to hold scissors than it does to hold a gun. Food for thought!
