Actually, wait. You know John.
He’s the guy who’s been opening up members-only grooming dens across the country for decades now. Pool tables. Scotch. Hot towels and straight razors. Those kinds of places.
Oh. Also... there’s one of those on Geary Street now.
And we’ll be damned if it’s not miraculous.
Fix your gaze upon JA’s Razor Club, Sir Allan’s latest stroke of hair-tousling, beard-trimming, scotch-nipping genius (okay, it’s a private men’s grooming club) conveniently tucked away on the second floor of John Varvatos, now open and eagerly awaiting your membership request.
This is where you’ll go when you... want a haircut. But it’s also where you’ll go when you want to feel like you’re in some kind of Dead Poets Society remake where everyone’s all grown up now and instead of sitting around reading poetry, you’re all sipping brown alcohol in old-school barber chairs while discussing how much better you’re about to look than everyone else.
Start by walking into John Varvatos. Get lost in there for a while. It’ll behoove you to do that. And then, when you’re good and handsome, head upstairs and prepare to become more so. Before you: brick and wood everywhere. Black barber chairs. The smell of aftershave and esprit de corps in the air.
Sit down. Take a drink. Grab a massage and a shave and a manicure.
Or a massage and a shave and not a manicure.