've never been really big on “hairstyles,” as a damning Google image search of me will surely attest. I spent a good portion of the early 2000s with either an entirely unmanageable shoulder-length coif of parted-in-the-middle yuckiness, or a semi-spiky attempt at a 'do that was regarded as “in” at the time.
That all changed once I discovered Hawleywood's.
In an attempt to some semblance of cranial stylishness, and realizing that I can't really wear an Angels cap everywhere, I decided to hit them up to see if they could actually find a way to shine the turd that is my hairline and cowlick.
I'm growing exponentially grayer by the day, and want to make the most of this coifpertunity before I'm in full-blown Anderson-Cooper-mode. (Not that there's anything wrong with Anderson Cooper's hair, it's just…I'm 36-years-old and want to make the most of this dark brown hair that I've got while I've still got it.)
Discovering Hawleywood's has been a godsend.
1. The Vibe
Sorry ladies, it's guys-only. Stepping into Hawleywood's feels like you've been transported back to the '40s, with vintage barber chairs, vintage artwork, and (gasp) smoking indoors. (I don't smoke [anymore], but if I did, I'd be stoked.)
All of the barbers are dressed accordingly, in oxfords, slacks, and ties. Old school punk rock, rockabilly, and big band pours through the speakers. Sports or classic movies are played on flatscreen TVs affixed to a wall covered in photos of Old Town Costa Mesa, punk rock icons, era-appropriate art, and vintage Angels memorabilia. You have a seat, and they offer you a cold beer. (Yes, please.) It's a far cry from the mind-numbing techno, labyrinth of mirrors, and glass of Pellegrino that I used to experience in salons back in the day.
It's awfully refreshing (aside from the smoke and beer, that is.)
2) The Cuts
3) The Long Overdue Goodbye To “The Walk Of Shame”
In my experience, the most damning part of any salon or barbershop experience has always been walking out with a hairstyle I wouldn't be caught dead in. I can't tell you the number of times I used to briskly run-walk out of a salon with a 'do that looked like I'd been trapped in a wind tunnel and been hair-sprayed to death or like I'd been kidnapped by Clay Aiken's stylist and sent on my merry way. After a cut a Hawleywood's, I never need to make sure I bring a hat in the car, or feel like I have to rush to a public bathroom to undo the mess that's been made on my head before I see people that would smack me for looking like a jackass.
So if you're a guy in need of an affordable no-nonsense haircut, I'd suggest you hit up Hawleywood's.