Gabrielle Gassin

The drapes are velvet and a shade of deep jade belonging surely to the 50s; an era of exquisite furnishings and appearances much amiss in the modern day. It’s pleated up top, and falls in perfect waves, and is held back to reveal the interior with a rope touched and tasselled by Midas, nestled comfortably and still, within the folds of green.

The cornices frame a spaciously small area; patterns curling perfectly among themselves almost like tiny feather boas encased in plaster. The room is brightly but not overly lit, with three brass chandeliers – two on the wall, hanging in place, delicate and perfectly suited to the jazz piano and saxophone supporting the modest conversation between the barbers and their clients. Snipping and razoring, spritzing of water and hair dryers switching on and off intermittently determines the volume of voices; they crescendo and decrescendo with the diegetic sound as it moves naturally through the space.

Just three gentlemen are serviced at a time here, seated in a chair that boasts the appearance of a handsome machine. Brown leather and silver frame with foot rest and lever to recline the client at no physical cost; movement of his own volition unnecessary. The client is spun swiftly and jerked backwards, his head forced gently into the sink for washing. He is somewhat surprised at the effect; a mini roller coaster experience in a central Grecian barber shop. The manoeuvre takes place effortlessly as the barber shuffles and slides silently around his client’s chair, aided by the patterned tiles underfoot. Typically Greek in design, each one is different to its neighbour and appearing in a random order – a perfect, chaotic foundation to the room. Timber wall panels, shelves and window frames fit with wooden Venetian blinds and marble bench tops, where traditional shaving brushes and barbering paraphernalia await usage. Golden hooks at the entrance are full; each client once through the French door entry carefully hanging his coat before gliding toward his allocated recliner.

Men are awarded a prolonged moment of relaxation here; discussions between stylist and client flow smoothly. The pauses and restarts feel completely natural to the surrounds. Sometimes men sit quietly, the pampering allowed and even reinforced as eyes close to enjoy the experience. Hot towels envelope the visage and head as it contemplates cream ceilings; the same shade reflected in the floor tiles of varying design and coordinating palette. Olive green of one feature wall coincides with Tuscan oranges and clay browns, colour that comforts the senses. Good espresso is served whilst a client waits his turn; a demitasse arriving on a silver dish with whorling, upturned edges.

Every aspect of this encounter is perfectly suited, and actively enacted in the meticulous care taken by each hair artist. Despite having to sit through the hour long ordeal of my husband having his haircut, it wasn’t an unwelcome experience …and if you’re in Athens and you need a trim, this is where you should go!