Handsome Is

Barbershops ain't what they used to be. The once familiar "thin it out some on top, and no machine on the sides" has given way to an operation that sometimes lasts three hours, may include everything from a permanent wave to an eyelash tint, and can cost as much as twenty bucks. Like ruffled shirt fronts and cuff links the size of poker chips, it all seems to have started in Hollywood.

When a Hollywood type says, "I see you've been to Sebring," he doesn't mean the sports-car races. He is talking about Jay Sebring, 28, the Alabama-born boy who has become dictator of the nape-line, tyrant of the sideburn, and keeper of the keys to baldpate for a list of notables that begins with Frank Sinatra and ends with Bobby Darin (they have a similar problem) and includes Milton Berle, Marlon Brando and Sammy Davis Jr.

Wet, Dry. Sebring's establishment, which has doubled in size since he first set up shop in 1959 (last year he grossed about $50,000, expects to do $100,000 this year), is a ten-chair, swinging bedlam, with a hi-fi dishing out a diet of progressive jazz and the recorded works of Frankie and other customers. It has a red and black floor, Indian brass hanging lamps, paneled partitions and--in Sebring's private cell--velvet drapes. A visit begins with a mandatory shampoo (Sebring, like most of the "new wave" of barbers, prefers to work on damp hair).

If it is a customer's first time, then the master himself will study the mass of wet hair for several minutes, like a sculptor contemplating a virgin block of granite.

He riffles the hair with a comb, examining density and flow; then he begins to cut.

New customers almost always leave the shop restyled. Parts disappear or shift sides; the hair may be shorter, the sides fuller. For this attention Sebring gets $15 for the first visit, $10 subsequently.

But one Sebring dictum must be strictly observed: "Oil is for machinery and moving parts; unless you have a screw loose, it has no place on the head." Cigars, Facials. Chicago, for all its Midwestern spittoons-on-the-floor masculinity, has at least two beauty shops for men. Biggest is Bayard's Hair Studio, where it is not an uncommon sight to see a husky customer sitting with a cigar in his mouth and a hairnet on his head, as an operator uses a hand dryer to finish up his permanent wave. Owner Tom Bayard (who wears one of the toupees he specializes in--wavy black with a few grey strands) got the idea for a men-only beauty parlor when he was operating a ladies-only establishment before World War II. Men came in and asked if he would cut their hair. Says Bayard: "Later, when I was in the Naval Air Corps, I saw how vain some of my shipmates were, always standing in front of the mirror combing their hair. I knew I was right." At Bayard's Studio, a man can get his hair cut and styled, shampooed and reset in about 45 minutes for $3.75. A permanent wave is $12 to $15; lash and eyebrow tint, $1.75; toupees run from $275 to $300. No shaves. No shines.

Toupees, Tints. One of the poshest tonsorial emporiums in Manhattan is "Christopher Joyce," on Madison Avenue.

Above it is a ladies' beauty salon called "Joyce Christopher." The owner of both is Joyce herself. Says she: "It all started by my female customers' saying 'The one thing my husband wants is a good haircut--could you take him after hours?' " The result is the Christopher Joyce part of the business. The three barber chairs are the old-fashioned kind, upholstered in black leather. Antlers spring out between the mirrors. The door is guarded by a stuffed grizzly bear, in need of a trim. The staff consists of two barbers, one male, one female (an Austrian woman named Charlotte), a manicurist, a receptionist, and a Mr. Chandra, who does nothing but make and fit toupees.

Not so quaint as Christopher Joyce, but even busier, is Eddie's Barber Shop, also on Madison Avenue. Says Proprietor Eddie Pulaski: "The hair-coloring field hasn't even been touched. I get about 15 to 20 requests a day. But men are like women were 20 years ago; they sneak in to have it done." Eddie's tint jobs cost from $7.50 to $25, and he claims that his coloring is done "not just on theatrical types, but about 85% on men in the business world." Another of Eddie's specialties: a facial called "Sudden Youth," for $6.50. It takes half an hour, lasts for two days, and "is great for someone going to a big event. It pulls all the wrinkles up and clears the bags." Eddie's former partner, Jerry Spallina, is now ensconced in a parlor of his own, also on Madison Avenue, and also on the second floor of an office building. It is businesslike in decor; the New York Stock Exchange reports are piped in over FM for the benefit of edgy customers, and the shop provides French manicurists to hold their hands when the news gets too bad. Like most male beauticians, Jerry scorns scissors, favors the "razor cut," using only a straight razor and comb.

Among Jerry's regulars: CBS Chairman William S. Paley, Revlon President Charles H. Revson, Industrial Designer Raymond Loewy, Pat Boone, Arthur Godfrey--and Eddie Fisher and Sir Laurence Olivier, when they are in town.

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