Kiss the Beard Goodbye

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My 40th birthday has come and gone, along with my Conservatory Class’s Grad Show—and since the missus can’t stand the beard, I’ve really no reason to keep it. So today Al Howell is made good on his promise and took me down to the swanky Men’s Salon in the basement of the Royal York Hotel for a fancy, straight-razor shave.

One hour and many cuts later, I decided that it was still worth it for the potpourri of scents from the various old-man products that were applied to my tender face.

Thanks, Al!

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