Last night in Central Oregon and I decided that after work I’d go hit up Bi-Mart, a kind of local version of Walmart, Ace Hardware, small town sporting goods store intermingled. Having read a number of times about surprises people find when they’re traveling I thought it was worth a shot just to see what a place that wasn’t CVS, Walgreens, or Walmart might carry.
A little unsettling how quickly I homed in on the shaving section. Seems the rabbit hole’s appetite is such that it sharpens DE instincts when the male of the species is quietly hunting retail spaces. Anyhoo, I easily (and somewhat haughtily) sally past all the canned goo and cartridge/disposable offerings and my eye catches a familiar name . . . Van Der Hagen. Interesting. My inner bean counter speaks up.
"If you find something it doesn’t mean you have to buy."
Pffft, duh! I reply. Gravity gently pushes my head forward for a closer look.
Second item in from the right lets loose a startling, if silent, plea. “Please help us!” There are several boxes of Van Der Hagen Shave Kits neatly aligned. AD quickly sidles up to Pity. “Look at those unfortunates. Nobody wants them.” Pity nods then snaps his fingers. My eyes go to the price tag on the shelf talker . . . $7.99. Joy!
I mutter under my breath Eight dollar make me holla! Then look around to see if anyone heard—nope.
I don’t have a boar brush yet, and I have seen a few reviewers who found these kits for about $15. Half the price means I’m doubly convinced I need it. If only to experience a cheap a** boar brush. I snag two—no, not greedy, my son doesn’t have a boar brush yet either. I was thinking of him. I know, I’m a good dad.
Yeah, I’m leaving tomorrow, but precious little should come between a man and his DE toys . . . except maybe a good woman. I don’t have one of those so full steam ahead.
Pop out the brush . . . that thing is stiff! Potential flaky paint removal kind of stiff. Well, I’ve been on B&B long enough to know lots of guys suggest lathering with a new brush to begin the break-in process.
But you’re flying out tomorrow. There’s that buzzing again. I disregard it.
The brush needs to dry, as does the soap! Too late. I’m in zealous DE-guy mode already, fingers pulling open the soap container, water running to get it warm.
Load that knot of porcupine quills up and run riot in my travel lathering bowl; I was so ready to play with it I completely forgot it came with a bowl. Oh well.
Man, I went to town with that brush. Didn't hammer on it, but used a little pressure while swirling it around. Counted about a half dozen bristles lost, not unexpected from what I've read . . . and I'm not expecting a whole lot for seven bucks.
Got a decent little lather from the soap puck. Nothing as elegant or gorgeous as a tallow soap but absolutely works in a pinch I suppose. Not much to speak of fragrance-wise--smells like soap. Played around about 20 minutes or so, lost in my child-like reverie. Cleaned the brush out good, a few very gentle squeezes and a little blotting on a hotel towel. Then I heard the heating unit running. Sweet!
Carefully wiped down the soap container then placed the puck and brush on the table so they can be near the heating unit while it runs tonight. I almost forgot . . . I really need to smell the brush as I have yet to encounter the vile odors described by many who get new animal hair brushes. Right under the nose and . . . not much at all. There's something there but nothing nasty.
As far as I'm concerned that was a nice little bit of fun to be had on the cheap, something to assuage the DE beast, and more importantly, keep me from browsing more soaps.
A little unsettling how quickly I homed in on the shaving section. Seems the rabbit hole’s appetite is such that it sharpens DE instincts when the male of the species is quietly hunting retail spaces. Anyhoo, I easily (and somewhat haughtily) sally past all the canned goo and cartridge/disposable offerings and my eye catches a familiar name . . . Van Der Hagen. Interesting. My inner bean counter speaks up.
"If you find something it doesn’t mean you have to buy."
Pffft, duh! I reply. Gravity gently pushes my head forward for a closer look.
Second item in from the right lets loose a startling, if silent, plea. “Please help us!” There are several boxes of Van Der Hagen Shave Kits neatly aligned. AD quickly sidles up to Pity. “Look at those unfortunates. Nobody wants them.” Pity nods then snaps his fingers. My eyes go to the price tag on the shelf talker . . . $7.99. Joy!
I mutter under my breath Eight dollar make me holla! Then look around to see if anyone heard—nope.
I don’t have a boar brush yet, and I have seen a few reviewers who found these kits for about $15. Half the price means I’m doubly convinced I need it. If only to experience a cheap a** boar brush. I snag two—no, not greedy, my son doesn’t have a boar brush yet either. I was thinking of him. I know, I’m a good dad.
Yeah, I’m leaving tomorrow, but precious little should come between a man and his DE toys . . . except maybe a good woman. I don’t have one of those so full steam ahead.
Pop out the brush . . . that thing is stiff! Potential flaky paint removal kind of stiff. Well, I’ve been on B&B long enough to know lots of guys suggest lathering with a new brush to begin the break-in process.
But you’re flying out tomorrow. There’s that buzzing again. I disregard it.
The brush needs to dry, as does the soap! Too late. I’m in zealous DE-guy mode already, fingers pulling open the soap container, water running to get it warm.
Load that knot of porcupine quills up and run riot in my travel lathering bowl; I was so ready to play with it I completely forgot it came with a bowl. Oh well.
Man, I went to town with that brush. Didn't hammer on it, but used a little pressure while swirling it around. Counted about a half dozen bristles lost, not unexpected from what I've read . . . and I'm not expecting a whole lot for seven bucks.
Got a decent little lather from the soap puck. Nothing as elegant or gorgeous as a tallow soap but absolutely works in a pinch I suppose. Not much to speak of fragrance-wise--smells like soap. Played around about 20 minutes or so, lost in my child-like reverie. Cleaned the brush out good, a few very gentle squeezes and a little blotting on a hotel towel. Then I heard the heating unit running. Sweet!
Carefully wiped down the soap container then placed the puck and brush on the table so they can be near the heating unit while it runs tonight. I almost forgot . . . I really need to smell the brush as I have yet to encounter the vile odors described by many who get new animal hair brushes. Right under the nose and . . . not much at all. There's something there but nothing nasty.
As far as I'm concerned that was a nice little bit of fun to be had on the cheap, something to assuage the DE beast, and more importantly, keep me from browsing more soaps.
