Shaving and mixing.

Why this might seem interesting, I don’t know. But, around rather larger matters and to take my mind off them, I’ve found myself thinking about something that men have to (allegedly) do every day they’re alive and which I have been attempting half-heartedly since I was about thirteen. I am, of course, referring to shaving.

I say half-heartedly because, being a creative, I don’t really have to or want to shave every day – looking slightly unkempt between client meetings makes me feel slightly cooler than I am and this is a comfort – and, like most of the finest comforts, based entirely on self delusion. Perhaps because of this lax approach to facial grooming then, I have never developed much of a shaving regime. No fancy equipment, or foams, or gels, or creams or contraptions to see my pores up close – nothing. I have now, however, finally let my old Gillette GII technology slip from the sponge bag in favour of some flimsy new thing called a Mac 3. I think.

I mean, bleedin’ shaving marketing. It’s all got to have batteries and decals to make it look like it goes really fast – even though you really don’t want to be dragging anything sharp across your face really fast when you’re half awake – and it all looks like Transformers or something. All I want to do is reduce my facial rubble without blood and sweat. I was worn out just getting through the packaging. And I’m not altogether sure, but think they might be trying to tell me it’s digital rather than analogue. (I’ll believe this when I can Undo a nasty nick.)

Which is all very well, but am I supposed to not shave with good old soap any more either? They’ll be telling me not to rub sheep fat on my face afterwards next.

Anyway, to add to the dizzying speed of change around here, I also went mad and bought a new mixing desk, Let’s hope this one doesn’t blow up in my face any time soon. Or I’ll have to grow a beard to hide the shrapnel scars.