My Barber Andy

My friendship with my barber Andy might be the singular positive, regular, long term business-patron-type relationship I have in the whole city of Seattle after almost two years of living here. 

Andy is Snickeldorf-esque: blunt, easily amused, maybe even kind of simple. He likes The Beatles and “European Short Films” and stories about the places he’s lived, so he can point out the streets and say to himself “I know that street!”


Andy works in Pike Place Market and does the cheapest haircut in Seattle — $18. Today I overheard him tell a customer he “doesn’t know how to use a computer,” which checks out, because his shop isn’t on Google Maps. Or at least it wasn’t when I miraculously stumbled into it one day after being rejected by three trendy $40 Seattle Barbers on account of “We don’t take walk ins.”


I’ve never waited more than 5 minutes, and I’ve never made an appointment. Plus I have an excuse to go to Pike Place and walk around every time I feel like getting a cut. And the hair cuts themselves are just as good as I’ve ever had. 


There’s a ceiling to how much I can enjoy a hair cut. I don’t believe that “paying for quality” really exists when you want it as simple as I do. I don’t use shampoo. I don’t want attention for my hair. I just want it long enough to cover my big ears and short enough to stay out of my eyes. Andy is the perfect barber for me. 

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