EdgarStubbleface

Edgar Part 1

The early hours of the morning started burning off the fog that covered the fields and the streets of Castlerock Below, Mississippi. His wife faithfully made him his favorite breakfast, which he ate with relish. Finished, he put on his overcoat against the cold winter weather, kissed his wife and children and headed towards the Barber Shop. It had been in his family for three generations, staring with his grandfather, Cyrus Walker Stubblefield, who in turn handed it down to his son, Theodore Walker Stubblefield, who had given him the reigns fifteen years ago, when he was twenty-one years old. A short trip of ten minutes took him down Bond Street, where he turned left onto Fleet Street, and walked up the steps to his shop at 1600 Fleet Street.

He made a pot of coffee on the wood burning stove in the back room, straightened up the shop, and after enjoying his coffee, turned the sign on the door to say “OPEN” to the potential customers on the street. His shop opened at precisely eight-thirty, and about fifteen minutes later, his first customer walked in.

“Good day, Edgar,” John Forsythe said, his manner congenial. “Might I get a shave and a trim, for the usual two bits?”

“Of course,” said Edgar. “Please; have a seat.” He adjusted the barber chair so that Mr. Forsythe could be in a relaxed position while getting a shave and haircut. Taking his tongs, he pulled a hot towel out of the pot of hot water where all the hot towels were, and wrapped it around Mr. Forsythe’s lower face.

Mr. Forsythe expressed a satisfied, “Ahh…” While waiting for the hot towel to soften the beard, Edgar grabbed a straight razor, and sharpened it on the leather strap. A few minutes later, satisfied that Mr. Forsythe’s beard would be soft enough, he removed the towel, took the straight edge razor, and carefully removed the stubble from Mr. Forsythe’s face, leaving it smooth and clean, as a baby’s behind after its bath.

Sharpened and sanitized scissors and a comb held in his expert hands trimmed Mr. Forsythe’s hair to an immaculate precision. The horsehair brush removed any vestiges of stray hairs that landed on Forsythe’s neck and shoulders. The last thing left to do was to apply the aftershave to leave his customer refreshed, and with a pleasant woodsy, yet citrusy smell, sure to impress all the ladies, and, of course, Forsythe’s wife.

“Thank, Edgar,” Forsythe said. “I feel like a new man.”

About a couple minutes later, after Forsythe paid his two bits, he scratched his face and neck. “You know, Edgar, I love the smell of this aftershave, but I find it makes me itch somewhat.” Forsythe turned to leave, and said, “Good day, Edgar. I shall see you in a few weeks.”

Stubblefield Stubbleface

“Good day, John.” Perplexed by this problem of rash-inducing and burning aftershaves, he thought for a while, and finally said, “I believe I’ll go visit Horace Van Carothers in the apothecary down the street. Perhaps he could help me out.”

At three thirty in the afternoon, he decided to close his shop early, so he could have a meeting with Carothers. The two- and one-half block trip took him a few minutes, and finished, he arrived at 529 Market Street, where the sign above the door read “Van Carothers”

He walked in, looked around and found Horace in the back, searching for something for a customer. He waited patiently as Horace explained to the customer that a particular ointment cleared up rashes within a few days. The customer paid for, said “Thank you,” Horace.

“You’re very welcome, Ruth. Hope it clears up little Sadie’s rash. Good day.” Turning, Van Carothers noted he was there, waiting to talk to him. “Afternoon, Edgar. Aren’t you supposed to be in your barbershop? I thought is closed at five thirty.”

“You see, Horace,” he said, “I’ve got a problem that I hope you can help me solve. I wanted to catch you before you closed.” He wrung his hands nervously.

“It turns out that whenever I shave, or shave someone else, I apply aftershave, and more often than not, the customer complains about itching, or feeling uncomfortable. Is there anything I can do to relieve the irritation?”

“Now, I’m not sure what exactly you could use. If you simply wanted an ointment, I would give you what I gave Ruth Weeks for little Sadie’s rash.”

“No; I believe that an ointment would be too greasy,” he answered. “Besides, I have a perfectly good salve at home. If that were the cure, I’d just bring my salve in.” A sheepish smile followed with, “If you can believe it, I cut myself shaving this morning and had to apply my salve.”

“Well, now here’s the thing: I do know that women here in the U.S. and in Europe use a cream called Crème Céleste, which is a mixture of white wax, spermaceti from a sperm whale’s head, sweet almond oil, and rosewater. Now, the smell is rather feminine, but you could make a variant of this using ingredients giving such a cream a more masculine smell. I don’t know what smell you’re after, but I’ll leave that up to you.”

“Huh. Do you have any of that cream here?”

“I do. But I’m not sure you’d want such a feminine product.”

FAST FORWARD ONE HUNDRED FORTY YEARS

“That’s alright. I’ll use it as a guide to help me concoct a version of this cream for men.”

“Okay. Let me get a container of the Crème, and I’ll ring you up.” A few moments later, he produced the cream, put it on the counter, and said, “That’ll be a dollar fifty.”

“This had better be worth it,” Edgar replied. “I guess I’ll consider it the price of research.”

Every day for the next 3 months, he would retire to his shed, where he set up an office, replete with chair, desk, a small wood stove and a wooden table. He used the basic ingredients in the Crème Céleste, but instead of using almond oil and rosewater, he tried the more masculine essential oils: cedarwood and sandalwood. He had read that bergamot oil was another ingredient that not only smelled great, but also provided good health benefits. He threw in some citrus oils as well, to add a fresh scent to complement the woodsy smell of the other ingredients. At the end of five weeks of experimenting with various quantities of the ingredients, he finally came up with a combination that not only smelled great, but soothed as well.

The following Monday, he took his concoction to his shop, and decided to try it out on the first customer that walked in the door. As it turned out, it was John Forsythe.

“Good day, Edgar,” Forsythe said amicably.

“Good day, John. Please come in and have a seat.” After performing the usual ritual of the shave and a haircut, he applied his new after shave elixir on Forsythe, and waited for his reaction.

“My, but this aftershave smells delightful,” Forsythe exclaimed.

“I’m glad you like it,” he answered. Forsythe paid him and said, “You know, this after shave not only smells wonderful, but feels soothing on my skin.”

“I’m glad,” he said as Forsythe turned and walked out the door. A few more customers that received a shave as part of their purchase had the same reaction as Forsythe. “This portends very favorably. I’m pleased.” After successfully using the after shave for a week, he applied for a patent on his new after shave, and became not only a busy barber, but opened up a sideline business of selling his product to his customers.

FAST FORWARD ONE HUNDRED FORTY YEARS. The Stubbleface brand, is now introducing new products. They are based on those developed by the hard work and dedication of their inventor, Edgar Walker Stubblefield. He toiled in the shed in his back yard until he came up with a successful formula for his after-shave balm. His barber shop has been long gone, but his genius has put us where we are today.

We now have not only a product for applying after a shave, our Post Shave Serum, but also a Pre-Shave product to hydrate, exfoliate and prepare the skin for shaving. For a refreshing change in the same ole same ole, try one of our all-natural products. We know you will be back.