Kenji Mori, 79, was a neighborhood barber for more than forty years. His shop was never fashionable. He had two chairs, a row of magazines, a small television, and a calendar supplied by a local bank.
Were you good at remembering customers?
Faces, yes. Names, not always. I remembered how they wanted the sides cut. That was sometimes more useful than remembering a name.
Did people talk a lot?
Some did. Some wanted silence. A barber learns quickly that not every quiet person is unhappy. Sometimes they just want twenty minutes without conversation.
What was the most common request?
“Same as last time.” That was probably half my business.
Did hairstyles change much?
Of course. Young customers brought photographs and asked for things I did not understand at first. I learned enough to keep working. But most men my age wanted the same haircut for thirty years.
What do you miss?
The routine. Sweeping hair, cleaning the mirror, opening the door at nine. I do not miss standing all day.
Mori now gets his own hair cut at a shop run by a man in his thirties. He said he never tells the barber how to do the job unless asked. “Former barbers can be annoying customers,” he said. “I am trying not to become one.”
By M. Ito
