Devoted AP readers may remember a post from a couple months back titled Precision Fade, in which I described the characteristics of a good, reliable barber.

Like new clothes, toothpaste or food, haircuts are a regular part of the consumption process, and how one cuts/styles their hair says a lot about who they are. To keep one’s identity in tact, remaining selective with whom you left shorn your locks is essential.

Once, while navigating my way through the crisscrossed back roads of old Barcelona, I came across an intriguing barbershop. I knew from its old-world aesthetic, peach-colored interior, scattered assortment of outdated products and glowing containers of barbicide, that the middle-aged man inside with the clippers was the real deal and could be trusted. Tipsy off several tall-boy cans of Estrella, I walked in, smiled and waited for my turn. Ten minutes and 3 Euros later, the best haircut I’ve ever had was completed. An amazing feat considering neither of us could understand a lick of each other’s language.