I wanted to share this outtake from a series of images shot on assignment last week. The story is about the Stay Gold barbershop in Fontana. The barbers are a group of twenty something, tattooed, pompadoured guys lead by the shop's owner Robert Oliva, pictured here. Oliva's shop, though a place of business looks as though it doubles as a crash pad for the terminally hip testosterone poisoned guy. And I'd sheepishly admit...I felt at home.
The walls are adorned with photos and posters promoting bravado, e.g. a movie still from the Reservoir Dogs and Johnny Cash flipping the bird for the camera. Various "girlie magazines" are strewn about on different flat surfaces with beer coasters used as bookmarks.
For the reasonable sum of $15.00 the well dressed man gets a haircut and trim around the edges, complete with a hot towel and straight razor.
Seeing Oliva spy my Fantastic Sams' coiffure I felt compelled to blurt the shameful truth. "I usually get my haircut at..."
Oliva finished the statement for me. "Supercuts? Fantastic Sams?"
"Yeah." I confessed.
"You know what we call that?" Said Oliva, poking a thumb over toward his fellow barbers. "We don't call it a haircut. We like to say you're a victim."
Oliva mentioned that cuts are by appointment only. I suppose my next haircut could come under the rueful gaze of Johnny Cash flipping the bird. That'd be appropriate...I suppose.