When I was learning how to shave, my father taught me using an old Gillette butterfly-door DE. It gave a close shave, close enough for even my Oblate professors to give their okay. Time passed, and while cartridge razors came and went, that old standby Gillette was always ready. Swift, smooth, and always perfect.
Then the time came to move out on my own. Unpacking in my new place, I started searching for that old razor. Gone. Not a trace. I would have sworn I packed it, but it was nowhere to be found.
So, for some time, three years to be exact, I lived with cartridges and disposables. No place I could find carried new razors, and my EBay searches were fruitless. I didn't want one similar, I wanted that one.
One day, it popped up. Simple, the Gillette class of 1971. Black bakelite handles, plain stainless furniture, that loose clean font I loved. It was mine. Destiny.
Today, it arrived. Grabbing my old standbys of Barbasol and Personna blades, it was time for a trial. My hands instinctively remembered the right grip, the right angle. The soft tick of the adjuster knob was a sound from the past. First swipe, with the grain, setting of 3. Flawless. As was the next, and the next, and the next.
A perfect shave. One pass at 3, one pass at 1, both with the grain, and my face is as smooth as glass. Nary a nick or scrape to be found. All is well.
My quest is over. I have seen the top of the mountain, and it is good.
Then the time came to move out on my own. Unpacking in my new place, I started searching for that old razor. Gone. Not a trace. I would have sworn I packed it, but it was nowhere to be found.
So, for some time, three years to be exact, I lived with cartridges and disposables. No place I could find carried new razors, and my EBay searches were fruitless. I didn't want one similar, I wanted that one.
One day, it popped up. Simple, the Gillette class of 1971. Black bakelite handles, plain stainless furniture, that loose clean font I loved. It was mine. Destiny.
Today, it arrived. Grabbing my old standbys of Barbasol and Personna blades, it was time for a trial. My hands instinctively remembered the right grip, the right angle. The soft tick of the adjuster knob was a sound from the past. First swipe, with the grain, setting of 3. Flawless. As was the next, and the next, and the next.
A perfect shave. One pass at 3, one pass at 1, both with the grain, and my face is as smooth as glass. Nary a nick or scrape to be found. All is well.
My quest is over. I have seen the top of the mountain, and it is good.
