Vincenzo's Place

in Rome

We were headed toward the Spanish Steps in search of espresso before heading to the Coliseum. It was hot and muggy in Rome in the summer of 2004, and my long, out-of-control hair wasn’t helping. I didn’t even see the shop, but my wife Vicki, ever the eagle eye, spotted the traditional red and white pole and suggested I get a haircut.

The idea appealed to me, but I was a little nervous since I didn’t know what to expect. I peeked in the door, and it was empty but for the barber, a distinguished man with a white mustache and hair, and a female, who seemed to be his assistant and manicurist. I walked in and was greeted warmly.

Vincenzo sat me down after I told him and the assistant that I wanted the cut, media. He smiled and began working. My retired stateside barber, Al Latham, used to say he could tell a man’s skill within a few seconds. “It’s all in the hands, Dave, it’s all in the hands,” were his exact words.

Considering Al’s criteria, I noticed that Vincenzo worked like a skilled surgeon. Standing erect and dignified, Vincenzo moved swiftly, cutting and shaping overgrown, neglected hair. His focus was sharp, and he didn’t attempt to talk about sports like the barbers of my childhood. The fact that he didn’t speak English was partly responsible for his silence, but I don’t know how much he would have talked had I spoken Italian.

After cutting a lot of hair, Vincenzo moved me to the sink for a wash. This was a reverse process from that in America, but by now, I realized I was in the hands of a master craftsman, and I had no worries. Following the wash, he sprinkled my head with a refreshing lotion and then dried my hair. At one point, he put a net over my head for shaping purposes. He never used clippers like American barbers, but instead, he pulled out a straight razor, sharpened it, and trimmed here and there. When he finished using the razor, like an operating room physician, he held out the razor, which his assistant snatched up with precision. The whole thing was like watching Bob Cousy do his magic with the Celtics in the 50s.