Bulletin Board 61

A Volvo love story, being a better barbershop client and the Omega that almost got away.

Rome 1978, shot by Elliot Erwitt

We’re back from our holiday break—and just days away from the starting gun at Pitti Uomo, where we’ll be celebrating our fall/winter issue with our bi-annual Negroni blow out at the Sina Villa Medici. Yolanda and I are tucked into our Rome apartment (enjoying the NOT 20 degree upstate NY weather) prepping for Pitti, and realizing I basically do not have to pack anything to travel here but mistakenly do anyway…UGH. Since we’re furiously working away on our spring issue, I’ve called on a few friends and contributors from the Wm Brown universe to pen this week’s Bulletin Board. So, as I enjoy my 10th espresso of the day, I leave the below for you to explore.

CAR TALK

Long before I met my friend Drew Oliveira, a PR and marketing strategist in the real estate and hospitality field, I knew his car: A 1991 Volvo 240 station wagon perennially parked on Beacon Hill’s Louisburg Square, arguably the most beautiful street in Boston. Realizing that owning and maintaining such a vehicle was clearly a labor of love, I got the story from its owner below. —Eric Twardzik

My interest in Swedish cars started with my mom’s 1993 Saab 900. At the end of 2019 I was replacing my own 900, and I was looking for another Swedish car. I’ve always loved the wagon, but this one in particular jumped off the page for me because it had a really cool history behind it. The owner was a history teacher in Salem, and his mother purchased the car off the lot in Radnor, Pennsylvania in 1991 and pretty much babied it for the rest of its life. It’s navy blue with this seafoam green pinstripe running around it, and it’s got a brown leather interior. They took such beautiful care of the car that I fell in love with it immediately.

I bought it not knowing that the pandemic was coming, and I immediately put it to use camping all over the place. I figured out that you could fit a small cot and a sleeping bag in the back. I actually camped in it on the Vineyard for two weeks in the summer of 2020, and then I spent a considerable amount of the rest of the year driving it around and spending time in places that I’ve been and places that I’ve always wanted to go.

Left: Drew’s parking spot in Louisburg Square

I’ve driven it a lot in the four years I’ve owned it. When I got it I think it had 112,000 miles on it, and right now it’s at 190,000. I haven’t been shy about driving it around as far and wide as I can, but I’ve also used it as a daily driver for the last four years. By far and away it’s the most reliable vehicle I’ve ever owned. It’s like a tractor engine, it just can’t be stopped.

And when it does break down, it’s incredibly easy to work on. I’m not super mechanically inclined, but I know enough about how an engine works. A lot of engines are hard to access, but this one is incredibly easy. As an owner you feel really good when your car breaks down and you can solve the problem right then and there.

I have a mechanic in Warwick, Rhode Island, that’s a Saab guy. I used to take my 900 there. His name is Mike, and the place he runs is called Conntech. My go-to Volvo guy is a guy in Allston named Hunt who runs a garage called Swedish Motors. It’s in this alleyway behind Commonwealth Avenue on Packard’s Corner. He prefers the Saabs but he was a great resource for this particular Volvo.

I just don’t want to drive it the long distances that I’ve driven it in the past. In single trips, I’ve gone as far south as Florida, and it’s at the point where the rust on the undercarriage has really started to creep up on it. But mechanically, this thing will never die. It’s completely bulletproof.

BARBERSHOP TALK

My longest continuous relationship in Boston isn’t with a friend or a spouse, but rather my barber, Van Capizzano, who’s been lowering my ears for well over a decade. After cutting at Freeman’s Sporting Club in NYC, he opened his own shop, Tribe Barber, in Boston’s South End in 2017. With more than 30 years behind the shears, Capizzano has a few thoughts on what to do—and not to do—if you want to cultivate a long-term relationship with your own barber. —ET

- If a haircut is a certain price and your barber accepts tips, everything past that price tip-wise is your value to that barber. If you think “Well, this is a fair tip,” then you’re a fair client. If you think people overtip, you’re an undervalued client. The more you take care of your barber the more he takes care of you, and the higher you rank.

- Keep your elbows tucked in, because right where your elbows are is where our genitals are. If your elbows are out, we’re going to bump into them a lot, and we don’t like doing that.

- Try to sit up. There are a lot of clients that’ll slouch. They’ll sit deep in the chair and put their feet on the wall.

- Be a statue: don’t move your head. The way we cut hair, it’s like deconstruction. It’s almost like sculpting. And so every time you move your head, you move the sculpture, and the shape changes. Let the barber move your head for you, and then keep it there. Be aware that he put it there because that’s exactly where he wants it.

- Don’t be late. If it’s a 30-minute haircut, every minute I get outside of that 30 minutes is my bathroom break, an important phone call, or an email to a family member or for business. My five-minute lunch break is in that time. So if you’re late, you just took away from that and I’m fully aware that I will not have a chance to go to the bathroom.

- I’m a very service-oriented barber. If the barber isn’t very service oriented—he’s talking on his phone, he takes a cigarette break before every single haircut, says it’s five minutes and then it’s always 10 to 15—then none of this applies. But if it’s a barber that takes his time seriously, is not talking on the phone and not walking away from the haircut, these things all apply. It’s up to the barber, first and foremost, to be the reliable one.

- I like talking, but some barbers aren’t huge talkers. If your barber asks, “How have you been? How were the holidays?” That guy wants to talk. If you ask him those things and he’s a one-word answer, he doesn’t want to talk. If he elaborates, he wants to talk.

- Don’t wear a freaking baseball cap to the barbershop. You come in with baseball cap hair, and we’re chasing a mistake the whole haircut because it makes indents on the sides of your head, above your ears and just under your occipital bone. It also pushes hair above those points and out, because the baseball hat’s always rubbing up and down.

- Do not wear hoodies if you don’t want hair down your neck. We have to push hoodies down, and what the hoodie is going to do is push the cape out. If you wear a hoodie, just make sure you wear a T-shirt underneath so that you can take the hoodie off.

- A photo is everything. If your barber is good he’s a visual person. Just show him a picture and he’ll repeat what he sees.

Van Capizzano at work

- Memorize your last haircut. If your barber is good, he knows exactly what a half-inch is, which is roughly your thumbnail. If you say your last haircut was six weeks ago, that’s a thumbnail and an eighth of an inch.

- It’s a half-inch a month. So if it’s been two months it’s one inch. What I do is say, “It’s been three months since you last had a haircut, do you like the length?” If it’s “yes,” I just take it back to then.

- Actually knowing when you last had a cut is a big deal.

- The worst, and this happens all the time, is “What are we doing?” Well, a haircut obviously, that’s why you’re here. That’s what I do for a living. So, what are you thinking? A “trim?” That roughly means “I like the length but I just want it cleaned up.”

- I generally try not to make decisions for anybody. Just because I can see it doesn’t mean they can. What I do is I make suggestions. I’ll tell them why I don’t think that works for them. And I give it three, four or five haircuts for that to sink in. It actually happens quite a bit.

WRIST CHECK

Lastly, our correspondent Jonathan Petrino returns with the tale of how he lost–and found—an Omega Flightmaster.

My hunt for this watch started with the one that got away. I was in New Orleans and spotted a full-size vintage Omega Flightmaster, its dial a delightful mix of colors and complications. I told myself I’d circle back later that day. By the time I did, the shop had closed, and with a 5am flight the next morning, the opportunity vanished as quickly as it arrived. Chalk it up to one too many Vieux Carrés.

Watches have always been a quiet through-line in my life. My father got me into them when I was young, and I still have more than a few that he gave me; including a vintage Datejust I treasure. I think because of that, I’ve always gravitated toward understated pieces, usually on the smaller side, that feel like they could have lived several different lives before landing on my wrist.

A few months after New Orleans, a jeweler in Boston had this circa-1970 Omega Seamaster Ref. 166.090 (the so-called “Baby Flightmaster”) for sale. I’d never seen one. It carries the same distinctive case shape as the Flightmaster but in a far more wearable 38mm size, and the blue dial had exactly the kind of quiet character I love. The watch desperately needed a new bracelet or strap, but the shape, the dial, the proportions (the history) all clicked for me.

I bought it immediately.

After trying a couple different straps, I landed on a Hodinkee leather NATO with just a few touches of blue stitching to echo the dial. It’s aged beautifully and pairs naturally with the patina the watch has earned over time.

I’ve owned it for around nine years now and only sent it to Omega for service once, where it returned refreshed but still unmistakably itself. Lately, I’ve been reaching for it more often. Remarkably, I’ve still never seen another one in person, and even online you’ll only ever find one or two floating around for sale at any given time.

In the end, I’m glad I didn’t buy the Flightmaster I saw in New Orleans. Missing that one is exactly how I found this, and now it’s become one of my absolute favorite pieces.