Going Underground

by Creemdreems

MEMORIES STIRRED

I recently read "A Story of a Private Pleasure" by 'Carol's Guy', about his long-time secret interest in Brylcreem. The subject of his interest and its subsequent affect on his life was fascinating, not least because it mirrored my own in several ways, and triggered a lot of memories. Coincidentally, I too grew up in the South West of England, and would be willing to bet we were even born the same year. And like Carol's guy, my interest was driven underground. In my case by an inability to admit to it, fearing ridicule — as I had once ridiculed others.

Realising that there are others out there sharing similar secret passions is somehow very liberating. So, although I shall be covering some areas of similar ground to 'Carol's Guy', I'd nonetheless like to share these recently stirred memories on this subject from my own perspective, and hope that some parts of it may strike a resonance with others, just as the experiences of Rodney's "What Happened in London" did for 'Carol's Guy', and in turn 'Carol's Guy's' essay did for me.

DISLIKE AND EMBARRASSMENT

As a youngster, like many of us at that age, I didn't like anything 'scenty', such as women's perfumes and make-up, or men's after-shaves and hair dressings. It was all part of that adult world that I didn't understand or want any part of. I sometimes had a shortish crew-cut type style in the summer, but more usually it was a bit longer with a side parting and long-ish fringe swept to one side. I hated the idea of having anything in my hair and used to sneer at friends who used Brylcreem or any sort of hairdressing.

A particular incident stands out in my mind that I believe played a major part in the development of what became my mainly private pleasure. One Saturday (at about the age of eleven or twelve) whilst in a traditional men's barber shop with my father — having just had my hair cut — the barber pumped a load of hair cream into his hand from a dispenser, and approached me as he rubbed it between the palms of his hands ready to put it onto my hair. I squirmed and ducked my head protesting loudly, making quite a scene. The barber, totally taken aback by this, ended up at the sink scraping the excess cream down the plug-hole before wiping the rest off on a towel. Only then did I realize that all conversation in the shop had stopped dead, and everyone (being a busy Saturday there were about a dozen people in all), was staring at me with a mixture of disbelief and disdain. I felt mortified with embarrassment and couldn't get out of the shop fast enough. My father was understandably annoyed and quite angry with me for causing such a fuss, and told me so at length during the drive home. I sat in shamed silence, internalising everything.

CONVERSION AND SECRECY

As a result of this incident, together with my prior stance on the subject, when about a year or so later I actually started coming around to liking the look of some of the Brylcreemed styles on other boys, and becoming more interested and curious about it, I somehow could never admit to liking it for myself — and consequently my growing interest became secretive. I'm sure it was this very secrecy that was about to enhance and intensify the pleasures of my increasing involvement with Brylcreem, just as the forbidden fruit is all the sweeter.

It was around this time I had the experience I have already related to SlickVille in 'A Brylcreem Story - "When Brylcreem first turned me on"', which had such a profound affect on me that I knew any disliking I had once had was well and truly swept away and I became a total convert. From this moment on I was in love with the white stuff.

PRIVATE EXPERIMENTATION

My own experimenting started in a small way by using a little of my Father's hair cream (so he wouldn't notice) which he kept in the bathroom. I'd do this just before I was going to have a bath, with the door locked for privacy. (After the fuss I'd made the previous year and not wanting to 'lose face', I couldn't admit to him I now really liked it). Afterwards of course, I'd have to wash it out, which was the down side of the whole thing. But the small amounts I was using were no longer enough — I wanted to use larger amounts and more often when the chances arose, so I was going to need my own supply.

This was to become a frequent necessity, and involved going to a not too local chemist or general store on my own where no-one would recognize me, in order to buy some Brylcreem.

I remember the large Woolworth's in town when they used to have a dozen or so rows of the long rectangular 'island' counters, each having a couple of staff serving along the middle of them. One of these was devoted entirely to men's hairdressings. Along one side were the ones I still didn't relate to, the type I associated with older men — a large array of bottles containing liquids such as 'Vaseline Hair Tonic' and 'Silvikrin Lotion with oil' and 'Vitalis'; a variety of Bay Rums, liquid Brilliantines and hair oils; tins and small jars with solid Brilliantines and Pomades.

But along the other side of the counter I would find what my peers were into, and what I was after — the jars of Brylcreem, along with row upon row of countless other makes of hair cream. I would spend ages studying them all before making my mind up — and then I had to overcome the terrible embarrassment I felt in order to ask for the jar I'd selected. Finally, wrapped in a paper bag and thrust deep into my pocket, I'd try to get it home as quickly as possible, hopefully without being seen by anyone I knew, smuggling it through the house and hiding it in my old toy chest, before anyone suspected. In my paranoid state, I felt that if anyone saw me they would see right through my pocket and the paper bag straight to the jar of hair cream, and the game would be up.

PLEASURE IN APPLICATION

I'd then have to wait for days, or even a week or more, until my parents went shopping in town or visiting friends, which meant I would have the house to myself for several hours. When I knew this was going to happen, I would feel the excitement building with the anticipation of being able to indulge in my new-found pleasure. It was really exciting getting the jar from the trunk and standing in front of the bathroom mirror with it in my hand, the feel of its cool glass shape adding to the anticipation building up inside me, every stage to be savored.

On opening the jar I'd hold it up to my nose, breathing in the great smell until it filled my lungs. The white cream looked so enticing and felt cool and soft as I put my fingers in to scoop some out, then putting the jar down so I could rub the cream between the palms of both hands — making that squishy, squelching sound, looking at myself in the mirror with my fringe falling on my forehead and imagining the dramatic change my hair was about to undergo, and how great it was going to look and feel. The smell of the cream would fill the small bathroom as I ran my hands through my hair repeatedly until most of the cream was in my hair, rubbing it well in with my fingers making sure every hair was covered — and loving the cool, moist feel of the cream in my hair and against my scalp. I enjoyed every phase of this ritual, as each one built to the next. I could feel my heart beating faster with excitement as I finally ran the comb through my hair, seeing and feeling the wonderful transformation. Combing the cream through the hair had a really unique and pleasing feel to it.

I'd usually start by doing my favorite style, which was like Robert Wagner's in the first Pink Panther film — it looked so brilliantly perfect (fittingly, I recently discovered that back then in America he was nicknamed "the Brylcreem Kid"). Also, a school-friend did his hair very similarly and I had difficulty trying to avert my eyes from constantly looking at his hair, which was really embarrassing. I was so envious of him being naturally at ease using hair cream without being at all self-conscious.

This style involved keeping my side-parting, but combing the fringe up and off my forehead to form a wonderfully shiny quiff, then continuing through the hair diagonally over the top, away from the parting and towards the back, while lightly pushing the top of the quiff forward with my free hand until the hair was rising almost vertically from my forehead, curving over to form a sort of edge along the top of the quiff that swept around towards the top of the side opposite the parting. Then taking the sides back parallel with the parting before sweeping around and down the back towards the centre of the neck, always following the comb with my other hand to smooth and shape the style I was creating, feeling its cool, moist silkiness, and watching the hair gleam and shine under the bright bathroom light took my senses to even giddier heights of pleasure — it just felt so sensual. I saw my reflection looking back at me and loved how my hair looked. It made me feel more grown up, like this was some right of passage — the signet becoming a swan.

As with Carol's Guy, I would then wander around the house enjoying the sense of freedom whilst I had it to myself, looking in the mirrors in other rooms where the direction and strength of light was different in each, and entranced by the varying ways the light played on my hair. The best look came when there was strong daylight through a window together with bright interior light from another direction, giving both cold and warm reflections on different parts of the hair.

And then I'd return to the bathroom to add some more cream and go through it all again, this time trying out several different styles. At this stage, the cream would start to build up in the comb, so I'd turn it over then comb it through less creamed parts of the hair until it was all absorbed. Sometimes I'd imagine that my image in the mirror was someone else who's hair I was styling, as if wanting to show others how good they could feel doing their hair like this.

And then more cream again, until finally my hair was glistening with Brylcreem — so full of cream that it squelched when I touched it, the hair no longer able to absorb any more, the excess building up thickly along the comb. I'd turn the comb over and gently transfer the cream onto the surface of my hair, usually on the quiff and along the top of the sides where the light caught it best, smoothing it lightly with my other hand attempting to enhance the depth of shine even more (as if that was possible!). By this time all my senses were so overloaded I felt I would explode.

And with a little help from Brylcreem — I did.

Forevermore, an inextricable link between Brylcreem and manhood.

OTHER USERS

In school, I'd enviously study the various styles of the boys who Brylcreemed their hair, taking in the many differences that I would later try out on myself. At regular intervals throughout the day, or whenever they caught sight of their reflection in a mirror or a pane of glass, they'd meticulously re-comb it into place, which I loved to watch. Often, they would comb their style just by feel — which always impressed me. I remember going into class first thing in the mornings, ten minutes or so before the teacher arrived when we would mill around and chat, and the smell of hair cream would be heavy in the air, further added to by some of the boys boarding there who would have freshly applied their Brylcreem just before coming into class. Out of a class of 40 or so boys, around half regularly used cream in their hair back then.

There was a large indoor swimming pool near school where groups of us would go after school sometimes. Afterwards, having dried and dressed, some of the boys would queue to use a Brylcreem Dispenser complete with mirror, conveniently placed on the changing room wall. It was similar to a Durex machine in size and shape, and for Thruppence you'd get a couple of pushes on the chrome plunger giving a good sized dollop of cream in the hand, to replace what had been washed out by first the pool and then the shower. It was great watching as each boy in turn would apply the cream and comb his hair into shape, simultaniously wishing I could join the queue myself, but unable to get over my psychological barrier.

DIFFERENT VARIETIES

I gradually came to recognize each of the smells of the different makes of hair cream. If I caught the waft of something new, I'd ask what it was, and if I'd liked the smell, try and get some to try myself. It was fun to compare them all, as each was different to a greater or lesser extent. As Brylcreem was the original, it had to be the yardstick. Some were more runny with less body — usually the cheap ones having used more water in the mix. Some were more oily, others were richer in texture, some thicker and more creamy.

Most of the big stores and large Chemist chains had their own brands. Woolworth's had Winfield Hair Cream (the one my father usually bought), Lewis's had Ranella Hair Cream, Timothy Whites had Ship Shape Hair Cream and Boots had their own Brilliantine Cream. In fact the latter comprises of the two words (with spelling changes) that the inventors of Brylcreem morphed together to name their own iconic hair dressing.

Many well known brand names also had their own versions: Imperial Leather Hair Cream by Cussons; Corvette Hair Cream by Goya; Cue Hair Cream by Colgate-Palmolive; and Old Spice Hair Cream, to name but a few. A lot of smaller companies were looking for a piece of the action too.

But my particular favorite hair creams, the ones I kept coming back to were - Brylcreem (naturally), Vaseline, Loxene, Silvikrin, and Boots' Brilliantine (sorry Carol's guy — we'll have to disagree about the last two). Each of these had a distinctive smell that I really liked, and between them covered a range of the different types. The Boots Brilliantine Cream was the cheapest and runniest, but the oils had a good viscosity which gave a good hold plus a great shine. The Silvikrin was the thickest — luxuriously rich and creamy; and the Loxene was medicated to get rid of dandruff (which was irrelevant because I didn't have any) but was a great smelling cream in its own right.

A lot of these hair creams were probably only made for the United Kingdom (UK) market, though some of the bigger companies would have had outlets in other countries, especially those in the Commonwealth such as Australia.

But if push-came-to-shove and I had to choose one above all the others — and this time I agree with Carol's Guy — it would be the Vaseline Hair Cream. It had all the best elements together of a gloriously addictive smell, a soft rich texture, great hold and a wonderful depth of shine (For that "just combed" look). In the UK at least, I think Vaseline Hair Cream was the second most popular cream, after Brylcreem — the biggest selling hairdressing in the world at the time. Like Brylcreem, Vaseline had made large glass hair cream dispensers specifically for use in barber shops, giving it perfect product placement. Most barbers had one or the other, some had both giving you the choice.

Unfortunately, Vaseline changed its formula for the worse in the mid 70's (when the the graphics on the label changed and the jar's distinctive green lid became metallic blue), and then again in the 80's as it went into plastic tubs. By then it resembled a sloppy PVA glue with a totally different, and really unpleasant smell. By the early 90's it had disappeared altogether. Loxene had gone by the early to mid 70's, along with most of the others I've mentioned above. Boots Brilliantine Cream was still around until as recently as about three years ago, and Silvikrin having been bought by Wella in the mid 90's and now called 'Hair Dressing Cream', is still obtainable in some chemists, though its formula has changed a few times since then to 'modernise' it.

So Brylcreem, the original hair cream invented in Birmingham, England in 1928, (and despite a few changes in its composition over the years, thankfully remains essentially true to its origins), is still going strong having seen off most of the competition, and is celebrating its 80th Anniversary this year [2008].

BACK TO THE FUTURE

Ironically, these days I am a barber, but back then the notion of this as a career hadn't even occurred to me. It must have come out of the desire to fill in the gaps between the times I could style my own hair, by persuading friends to let me style theirs. There would often be times when I'd be around at a friend's house listening to LP's or Radio 1, playing cards or some board game. If things got boring, I'd suggest experimenting on them with different hair styles just for the fun of it, and almost every time they'd be up for it. And no matter whose house I was in there always seemed to be hair cream of some sort I'd be able to use on them, whether it was theirs or their Father's. This added another dimension to my pleasure, as I no longer had to just imagine doing someone else's hair when doing my own. And best of all, it gave me a valid outlet as I had no reason to feel embarrassed staring at their hair — it being my creation after all.

I got to know how Brylcreem behaved in different types of hair, and how these could be styled to their best advantage. I'd always been quite imaginative and good at art, and somehow this lent itself well to the sculptural nature of shaping and styling hair. And my friends enjoyed me doing their hair and liked the end result, which was very gratifying. They came to trust in my opinion on how their hair would look best, and one even asked me to cut his, to save him going to the local barber.

I rose to the challenge, though I can't in all honesty say it was a total success. But he wanted me to do it again the next time which turned out a bit better. I now started to pay close attention to the cutting techniques each time I went to the barbers so I could try them out on my friend. Before long his brother asked me to do his, and then two other friends soon after asked me to do theirs.

By '65-'66 most people I knew in my peer group had stopped using Brylcreem and had adopted The Beatles' look — longer, natural 'undressed' hair with a fringe swept over to one side just above the eyebrows. I still enjoyed cutting my friends' hair from time to time, but really missed my favorite part — the Brylcreeming.

It would take almost 20 years before my haircutting would develop into something more than an occasional hobby. Five years of college followed by a career completely unrelated to barbering, in which I did well, but which got increasingly more paper driven and stressful. One day I knew I no longer wanted to continue doing it and had to find another direction.

And there was my hobby waiting for me to take it seriously.

FULL CIRCLE

It was by now the early to mid 80s as I was getting into barbering professionally and of all the timely coincidences, quiffs and the wet look came back into fashion thanks to two separate musical genres which were a huge influence on men's hairstyles in the UK then: Rockabilly, and the New Romantics.

Also around this time, Brylcreem had a major and timely re-launch of it's 'Original Hairdressing' with an Award-winning TV campaign in the UK. They took several of their TV ads from the early to mid 60's and visually re-vamped them with the voice-overs removed and replaced with music by 'The Art of Noise'. Brylcreem became cool again.

It was great — everything I'd learned experimenting on myself and friends 20 years before was once again very desirable and popular with fashion-conscious lads in their teens and twenties. I introduced them to the wonders of 'Original' Brylcreem, and had recently added 'DAX Wax', 'Black and White Pomade', and 'NuNile Hairdressing' (three types of classic American waxes) to my repetoire, which could also be mixed with Brylcreem to good affect.

The majority of my clients preferred the softer more natural feel and look that the creams and pomades gave, to that of the sticky, crusty, flakiness of Hair Gels. I built up a large clientele through word of mouth because they liked their hair to be Brylcreemed and not gelled.

By the early 90's the pushed forward look became fashionable, often with the front flicked up and Brylcreem still proved popular, but in the last decade came the onslaught of all the clays and pastes that assisted the messy, matt look that was popularised by the film "The Fight Club". Brylcreem has expanded its range since the sixties, meeting public demand with a variety of their own sprays, gels, waxes, clays and pastes (the range varies depending what country you're in).

But these things are cyclical, and I'm noticing signs that there is a growing interest in the classic swept back and quiffed look again, as can be seen in many of the fashion shots in the glossy magazines and in men's fashion shops, and I've been getting more requests for original grease based hair dressings. Whether out of curiosity or nostalgia inspired by the increasing number of period dramas on Film and TV, as exemplified recently by the very cool and sophisticated "Mad Men," based around an advertising agency on Madison Avenue in 1960's New York, the attention to period detail is superb, and I've read that Original Brylcreem was actually used to achieve the correct look for these men in their sharp suits.

What goes around comes around, and maybe it's time for Brylcreem's Original Hairdressing in the red and white tub (or if you're in North America — Original Hair Groom in the black, red and white tube) to make another come-back.

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