Rick Nelson and Claude Peck dispense unasked-for advice about clothing, etiquette, culture, relationships, grooming and more.
CP: Fie on the fancy salon. I'm back at a place with a barber pole out front, just like when I was knee-high to a grasshopper.
RN: Oh, sure, talk haircuts with a long-standing member of the Follically Challenged Community.
CP: Sure, but as a fan of Throwback Thursdays on Facebook, you must have vivid memories of bonding with your father when it came time to shear your then-blond locks.
RN: More like nightmares. Dad, who apprenticed in the haircutting arts while posted to a destroyer in the U.S. Navy, would tie an old sheet around my neck, flip on the electric clippers — which rattled and were prone to jamming — and commence with a buzz cut. I hated it. So did my brother.
CP: Then, as now, there's nothing like the feel of a freshly clippered noggin.
RN: So true. I suppose you and Claude Sr. bonded, Norman Rockwell-style, during many a happy Saturday morning excursion to your friendly neighborhood barber shop.
CP: I recall a three-chair operation next door to White's drugstore. Everything but ye olde pickle barrel. Later, my mom tried to scissor cut my hair using a cereal bowl as a guide. Results? Mixed.