That's why the silent scissors of Yury Yakobuv are such a godsend. Unlike snooty unisex salon stylists, this masterful mane man isn't interested in who cut your hair last. Show up with gum in your hair and he probably wouldn't bat an eye. He just lets you watch Ricki Lake or The Price Is Right or whatever's on his portable TV while he administers the comb dipped into blue antiseptic "Barbicide," the talcum on the neck, the hot foam shave, the razor around the ears, all the things you go to a barber for except conversation. You could be a regular for years and still never know what former Soviet republic he's from. He'd probably tell you if you asked, but it's more fun seeing how few words you'll need to part with beyond "short back and sides."
That oughta be on his business card -- "More Yakobuv, less yaks."