Scoring in Cherry Creek: The Art of Shaving and a spiel from the gruffless

In typical fashion, I was able to wrangle a few deals away from J. Crew on yet another jaunt over there during the lunch hour. A sweater and henley for $30? Score. And now that I’ve kind of decided against the Red Wings, I felt good about the purchase. It’s the phenomenon I described of setting money aside for, say, and eBay auction, then losing. Hey, look at all this money I have! Let’s spend it. Exactly. So after I exited the store surprisingly not running into Ryan, I spotted out of the corner of my eye the Art of Shaving store. I had just been looking at their shave kits an hour earlier online, thinking them to be good gifts for my brothers, had I not already done all my shopping. I popped in to check it out, regardless.

I hate going into stores that small and being the only one in there. There’s that awkward silence after you answer “No” to the obligatory, “Can I help you find something today,” question. Not letting me just browse quietly, the facial hair-less gent behind the counter remarked about each and every item I picked up. It was informative, sure, and he seemed to be quite passionate and knowledgeable about  everything. Though the fact he was clean shaven was somewhat off-putting. I was glad to see a close shave, but for whatever reason, I expected a killer mustache, unlike the wispy one making my upper lip itch. Alas, nadda. Though I did get a bar of soap.


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