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It occurs to me, as a guy who prefers sharpening a straight razor over throwing mountains of cartridges in the trash, wears grown-up hats instead of ball caps, considers a sport coat a minimum requirement for dining in a decent restaurant, and often writes with a decades-old fountain pen instead of buying plastic bags full of disposable pens (oh, OK, maybe the pen is just an eccentricity), that I’m in imminent danger of being nabbed and turned into a museum exhibit.
I’m as big a defender of consumer culture as anybody. I’m a big believer in choice. People should have options available and be able to select what suits them.
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But my choices tend to veer sharply from those of the prevailing culture. Where most folks go for the lowest common denominator under the banner of comfort and convenience, I like quality, durability and a little style.
Razors I’ve written about before. I hone and strop my razor because I resent buying a "razor" that’s nothing more than a handle that comes with an obligation to buy expensive cartridges. The vintage blade I’m using now cost me twenty bucks in a junk shop, which isn’t much more than the price of a pack of Fusion blades. Yes, I have to maintain it, but it still gives a close shave after a half-century or so. Ten years from now, the Gilette Fusion will have been retired in favor of some vibrating 12-blade monstrosity, and my razor will still be going strong.
And, hats. I like hats. In fact, living under the Arizona sun, I need hats. But if you need protection from the elements, you can opt for something well-made, that makes you look good, or you can stick a cheap piece of polyester trash on your head. Actually, a lot of Arizonans feel as I do and wear felt hats in cooler weather and straw hats in summer. There’s a tradition here of fine headwear. So there’s really no excuse for sticking a ball cap on your head as the covering of choice. Especially since it makes you look like a 12-year-old boy.
July 15, 2009
