Last year American men spent over a third of a billion dollars on shaving cream. Until recently, I numbered myself among them.
I have nothing against shaving cream per se; however, it does consume a vast amount of environmentally wasteful packaging materials and is supported by a massive amount of multi-media advertising dollars. In this it is not unique.
A well-shaved man, we are told, is more attractive to women. We are not exactly told this with words; rather we witness the well-shaved man in the soft caress of a beautiful woman and come to our own conclusion. That conclusion is that if we are well-shaved, many women will want to have sex with us. We are men, so we believe it.
A more technological sales approach hawks shaving cream as a nearly magical substance that will protect our faces from cuts and scrapes. The same companies that sell shaving cream also sell razors, but they’d just as soon we ignore that. The razors, now up to five blades and counting, are billed as being so excellent that cuts and scrapes don’t happen, which begs the question: why then do we need special shaving cream to protect us? We are men, so we don’t think about it.
I recently watched a commercial for an electric razor billed as far superior to a blade razor. An electric shave so close, they stated, that it rivaled what professionals consider the very closest shave of all: a barber shave with a straight razor. Now a straight razor is very sharp, but it is a single blade. That being the case, why are five blades better? Well, the five blades are disposable and over time account for far more profit than the cost of a straight razor. It’s all about making money, but we are men, so who cares if the whole advertising thing is stupid.
I was using some sort of exotic blue gel that oozed from a pressurized can and magically turned to white lather as I spread it on my face. It smelled manly, whatever that is, and as I shaved with my three-blade razor (only three – I am such a barbarian!) the lather would scrape off to reveal bare skin. As I shaved over the same spot from a different direction, there would be no lather and sometimes I would knick myself. No matter, I am a man; do I not bleed?
Then one day I ran out of shaving gel, and decided to use ordinary soap. I’ve taken lots of little soaps from fine hotels over the years, so I unwrapped a fresh bar and lathered it up between my hands in hot water. I spread the lather on my face and neck; it was sort of thin and slippery, not at all like the magical blue gel packaged product I had been using. I brought the razor to my cheek and drew it downwards to my chin. Lo and behold, it put the shaving gel to shame. Lubrication eased the razor across my face, no matter what direction. A thin, slippery coating of soap seemed to remain even after the razor had passed! It was the best shave I had ever had.
Call me an idiot for 50 years of wasting money. I am, after all, a man.
