Once again it was time for the bi-annual shearing, so off I went to Charlie’s. Those of who who have stuck with the Mad Middle Aged Mullet posts Parts I & Part II will know my deep love for the quintessential old fashioned barbers shop on Fulham Palace Road.
However, all has changed because Charlie himself is no more. Tired of clearing the plug holes of hair every night and having said his final “See the game last night?”, Charlie has retired. No more fag and a Page 3 girl, it was time to handover to a younger generation. I’d always assumed Charlie was Greek but he turns out to have been Turkish and his sons/cousins/mates have taken over. Thankfully, Charlie’s hasn’t gone all Scissors or Hair Raisers, if anything it’s become more basic.
Naturally, the Chelsea and Fulham team posters are still there but they have been supplemented by some vaguely homo-erotic drawings of boxers and that staple of all barbers, the sun-bleached photograph of a model with the dodgy 1970’s hair cut has been replaced with very 21st century pretty boys with what can only be described as hair styles. Goodbye mullets, hello hair gel. The good news is that the new owners are assiduously avoiding the trappings of poncery. The hand towels read Fosters and Carlsberg and have clearly walked out the side door of the Distillers Arms up the road. The shampoo still comes in a pump dispenser that I swear had Brown Sauce on the side or maybe I’m dreaming.
Best of all, you’re still greeted as if you are a long lost friend and the haircut is still £9.50. Charlie is no more, long live Charlie’s.