Three signs we know we're ready for a little EdwardScissorHands touch-up: (1) Our bangs are long enough to make crossing 2nd Avenue an extreme sport (2) People keep dropping change at our feet before scurrying away if we linger too long at the subway entrance and (3) Small dogs mistake us for potential one-hour stands and start copulating with our leg in the park. Once we hit the third, rather messy, scenario the only option was to pull a SubMercer and go underground. To the Subway Barbers.
Yup, our morning commute is now equal parts hassle and hairstyles. And it's so underground that only we and the four Con Ed construction guys waiting at the door know about it. Skepticism is natural but where else can you get a trim from an alarmingly rotund guy named Boris (see photo) in a space that looks like a snuff film set. Ok, maybe Brighton Beach, but we don't speak Russian and aren't hitting the sand til we shave our legs/June. For those concerned about the prices at such an exclusive joint, don't worry. It'll cost you about 2 drinks at Beatrice, which you can now hit up without looking like Chewbacca.