Barber buzz keeping stylists busy

By Michael Tsai
Advertiser Staff Writer

At Da Wig Shop on Kalakaua Ave., from left, Fred Sheares, Syd Sweeney and Darrell Baker hang out while Walter Davis, in the chair, gets a haircut from "King." Barber shops reflect a time when life was slower and more sociable. Eugene Tanner • The Honolulu Advertiser

Ice Cube, left, returns as barbershop owner Calvin, in the film "Barbershop 2: Back In Business." MGM Pictures

'Barbershop 2' style Even the most-talkative neighborhood barbershop communities probably don't have anyone as foxy as rapper/actress Eve or as funny as Cedric the Entertainer. So there you have two good, though not great, reasons for you and your 'do to check out "Barbershop 2: Back in Business," which opens nationwide tomorrow. The sequel finds Calvin (Ice Cube), Eddie (Cedric) and the rest of gang trying to defend their Chicago clippery from the new "Nappy Cutz" set to open across the street and a urban-renewal project that makes painfully clear which characters are on the right side of the fight. "Barbershop 2" features genuinely likeable actors and an uneven script. Still, there are enough hilarious lines and sympathetic performances to keep a cooperative viewer entertained. — Michael Tsai

Business isn't always this brisk on Tuesdays, but today happens to be the day Social Security checks are delivered, and the slow parade of retirees desiring a trim, a shave and some easy conversation is just beginning.

At Da Wig Shop on Kalakaua Avenue, the pace is a bit quicker and the decibel level considerably higher, but oddly, the vibe is the same.

The clientele here is mostly young, some black, some local, a few tourists here and there.

"Some days the place is crammed with all kinds of people just hanging out, watching movies, listening to music or just talking," says owner Darrell "Duke" Baker, an ex-Marine.

Endo and Baker are two of a diminishing number of neighborhood barbers trying to hold onto a way of life — a way of experiencing community — that seems to be rapidly fading.

The old neighborhood

"These kinds of shops are vanishing," says Endo, who grew up in Kaheka, Maui, and moved to Honolulu during World War II.

When Endo first opened for business 54 years ago, her clientele spanned every age group. One of the few constants in a changing neighborhood, she has cared for generations of area residents, staying apprised of their lives through their many monthly visits.

But then the chain stores, with their small armies of shaver-trained barbers, started popping up around the island and Endo, like so many of her older Honolulu contemporaries, found her links to the younger generations quickly eroding.

"Supercuts had a big impact," she says. "Most of my customers are elderly people now, people who have been coming to me for years and years."

Endo isn't struggling, however. As long as her faithful customers are able to make the trip to her small but impeccably tidy shop, she will have as much business as she can handle.

Unlike hundreds of old mom-and-pop gas stations, grocery stores and dry-goods shops driven out of business by large, price-slashing competitors, Endo and other neighborhood barbers have a value-added service the big chains can't match: a super-sized serving of community.

Feeling a different time

At a time when every engine of commerce and culture encourages people to think globally, Hawai'i's independent barbers bid all to stop, sit, relax and find out what's going on directly around us.

There is an out-of-time feel to Endo's shop that regular patrons say is reassuring. A set of pressed-wood cabinets, the vinyl coating fading evenly, lines the length of one wall, topped by a fake-marble countertop upon which is arrayed potted plants, a can of disinfectant, squirt bottles, a hair dryer and a coffee percolator. Above, on a shelf next to a large maneki neko, a fake poinsettia bobs in the breeze from a large, rattling air conditioner.

In Endo's shop, all seats face the center of the room — how else to enter a conversation? — and customers use the cozy forum to speak freely on everything from the morning traffic to Michelle Wie to the real problem with low-carb diets.

"You don't mind waiting here, because Mary is terrific and the clientele is good," says former labor leader David Trask, who has been coming every month for the last 30 years. "When you leave, you feel rested and comfortable."

No one is more comfortable this morning than 101-year-old Torao Kobayashi, who lies prone on the barber chair as Endo applies a hot towel to his face, then a coat of shaving cream, and then the invisible edge of her razor.

Endo holds the old-fashioned straight razor like a violin bow. Lightly pinching the handle between her thumb and forefinger, little finger bracing the other end, she draws it across the smooth contours of Kobayashi's face.

A younger generation might find the sight unsettling, but Kobayashi so enjoys the inimitable clean feeling he gets from a straight-razor shave that his daughter brings him here twice a week.

A different flava

Da Wig Shop is connected to Baker's hip-hop clothing business, Flava. Here, the walls are covered with magazine covers (Vibe, Source), posters and pictures of cutting-edge urban hairstyles.

Here, as at Endo's shop, regulars gather to relax and share their stories. "Some people might think of this place as 'that black place,' but we welcome everybody," Baker says. "We're a part of this community, and we welcome any and everybody."

Baker opened the shop four years ago, modeling it after a shop in Atlanta where he learned the craft of cutting and styling.

The shop is known for its intricate hair creations ("Whatever you can think of, we can do," Baker says), but Baker says his business has much more in common with old neighborhood barber shops than pricey salons. And while the most intricate braids require lots of time (eight or nine hours) and a good chunk of change ($250 and up), basic cuts are quick and $10.

"Where I come from, they don't have these magnificent salon places," he says. "This place is for regular people."

Reach Michael Tsai at mtsai@honoluluadvertiser.com or 535-2461.