Here’s the thing, I am not a great fan of shaving my face. There, I said it. Unlike my contemporaries in mid high-school, the idea of approaching my face with a sharp blade or a zinging soundtrack of clippers never quite appealed to me. That being said, the fact that I fell off a tree of super hairy men-folk didn’t help much during weekly spot-checks at my high-school when I (almost always) made it into shunned groups of something-teen year olds sent home until they returned as “boys”. I suppose a part of it might have to do with my mother’s refusal to splash out on my required designer shaving apparatus. I remember her reasoning being something like “you are only 14, are you trying to slice your face open with a hand-held blade?” yeah, from then onwards I denounced the reality of growing hairs on my high-speed growing features. Fast-forward to today and the little circumstance has taken a major shift. I now have no interest to go through life looking anything like Farther Christmas. I work in fashion and in between blowing air kisses; I actually do aim to clunk one upon a cheek. This then means that I have no business being the guy whose bushy facial bits collects tinted moisturizers from everyone (unless of course I happen to be on holiday, then I really could care very little about whose face I brush against). A decision was made that I had to make nice with barber and negotiate some sort of trimming sessions. Happy with my (adult) look I still haven’t grasped the tenacity to glide machinery across my face, trust me, I have tried and results are more often loathsome –I cannot stand the thumb-face dude reflecting from my bathroom mirror. As a result the barber is probably paying off his mortgage in the hills *cue rapturous hilarity* from this face alone. Still on a journey to master some sort of taming persistence for my facial topiaries, I come armed with my newest weapon; the Gillette ProGlide Styler. With this single precision device –I’m talking three-in-one vibes; razor, trimmer and edging blade- I draw closer closer to achieving a distinct style comfortably and effortlessly. Whether I aim for an ambiguous and excitingly liberate glam-rock image as seen at Hedi Slimane’s creations for Saint Laurent collection at the recent spring 2014 runway shows, or the mid 20th century referenced casts as per Alessandro Sartori’s traditionally mannish collection for Berluti, my options are practicable. Yes, I really don’t care much for fashion’s endless debate about the return of beards at a range of sizes.