How to Shave Like a Minimalist
Get a proper shave without cluttering your countertop
My father never taught me to shave. I had to learn from his medicine cabinet.
The first time I got scruffy, I went to the bathroom and opened it up. I grabbed everything that had to do with shaving.
A bottle of aftershave that looked ancient. A can of foaming shaving cream that looked cheap. A bag of disposable razors that looked even cheaper.
I had no damn clue what I was doing. Everything I knew about shaving came from Gillette commercials and that scene in Home Alone.
I sprayed the cream into my hand and patted it on my dry face. I grabbed the razor and nervously moved it across my cheeks and throat in slow, downward strokes.
The blades didn’t glide as smoothly as I hoped they would. The results were disappointing, too. I wanted my face to be smooth, but I just made it patchy. I looked even worse than before.
So, I patted more shaving cream on my face and went at it again. As if I hadn’t made enough shaving mistakes already, I shaved against the grain of my facial hair.
There was more resistance when I pulled the razor upward, but at least I ended up smooth.
