Shave #14: How razors differ from bicycles

Der wunderplastik razor continues to do its job consistently, comfortably and without fanfare.

I've written in previous posts about remarkable we should find it that manufacturers can meet a human need so inexpensively.  We find ourselves so surrounded by these everyday miracles that we usually fail to recognize them.  According to my man Bryan Callahan at the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, 40% of the world lacks access to clean water and sanitation.  Yet in many parts of this country, we freak out when we have water that we have to boil before drinking, even though it flows freely from the taps.

Perhaps it's worth looking at consumer products that haven't gotten substantially cheaper, or whose cheap versions aren't any good.  It really hit me this weekend: good bicycles cost more than they should.

Wal-Mart and Target sell lots of bikes for under $200.  While these prices make them affordable to a wide range of Americans (or a range of wide Americans, if you want to be snide), most bike aficionados believe the bikes don't hold up very well.  Generally speaking, more durable, better-made bikes come from bike shops and start around $400.  They go up from there.  Quite a bit.

Bike prices have lived like this, accounting for inflation, as long as I've ridden bikes.  But why do decent bikes cost so much when, say, cheap watches work pretty well?  My beloved $13 Casio tells time not just as well as a $6,000 Rolex, but better than it thanks to quartz accuracy.  It also has a stopwatch, an alarm and day/date display.

"But wait," says the watch purist.  "They're not the same thing."  Exactly.  Watch manufacturers worked with the direction of "give people something that tells the time reliably" and ended up with two completely different products.  The Casio is made mostly of plastic with electronic innards while the Rolex features high-grade stainless-steel construction and mechanical time-telling equipment.

Go over to the bike aisle in Target and you'll see that most of the bikes there are simply cheaper versions of the bikes in bike stores.  They use cheaper steel tubes for the frame and have more plastic in the components.  If you wanted to, you could unscrew most of the bits from the cheap bike and put it on the good bike and vice-versa.  The same swap does not apply for the Casio and the Rolex.

Sure, the Chinese and the Indians make some pretty decent cheap bikes (which sell in their home markets for a lot less than in the US), but they basically just make bikes from the early 20th century with cheap labor.  The bikes don't differ radically from what's out there already.

I understand than an Israeli entrepreneur has developed a bike made out of cardboard, which starts to get at the issue I'm discussing.  It uses fundamentally different materials, construction techniques and even drivetrain (an automotive fan belt replaces the chain, for instance).  The inventor expects them to retail for under $30 based on a materials cost of $12.

I wonder what took someone so long?

Presumably, the economics of a good, cheap bicycle argue against its creation.  That is, first-worlders have signaled an interest in $200 bikes even if they aren't very good while the developing world, which could use a good, cheap bike, probably doesn't offer appealing enough profit margins.

No wonder so many Indians grow their beards long.  Schick and Gillette probably have little interest in selling a 25¢ razor.

Shave #13: Improves with Age

After nearly three weeks into the Cheap Razor Experiment, I believe that the plastic wonder has actually improved as a shaver.  Today's shave, after a day off, seemed smoother than the last one.  I'd like to believe that my chiseled features have actually sharpened the razor, but I'd also like to believe that Sofia Vergara would instantly fall under my spell if she ever met me.

This all makes me wonder what kind of testing Schick and Gillette do on their razors.  In TV commercials, they like to depict torture tests, but those tests only happen after a razor has become a finalized product.

Razor test or beefcake?  You decide.

Years ago, a former researcher at Procter & Gamble told me that they used to pay people to take showers while being watched.  I think the test subjects wore bathing suits and, of course, the researchers cared how they used soap and shampoo.  Still, it probably beats sitting in a dark room behind a two-way mirror and eating M&Ms.

I also learned that packaged goods company employees know lots of little secrets.  For instance, a former brand manager in laundry care told me that powdered detergent actually cleans better than liquid (which I don't take advantage of) and that dryer sheets can be re-used many times (which I do).

I'd like to believe that somewhere, in the vaults beneath Gillette's or Schick's office lies a room like the one at the end of "Raiders of the Lost Ark" where they store reams of secrets about razors.

The steel in the blades comes from recycled mental hospital shackles.  Tell no one!

Then again, there's that Sofia Vergara thing.

Shave #12: The Face of Rebellion

Nothing feels quite so rebellious to me as not shaving on a weekday.

Jay Chiat, the founder of Chiat/Day advertising (you know, these guys) used to say that he went into advertising because he wanted to wear sneakers to work.  Maybe he just said that because his agency had the Nike account at various times, but he hit on a certain truth.  Namely, that men signal a certain sort of defiance by dressing down.

Similarly, not shaving sends a signal.  So when I decided not to shave yesterday, I felt that I had somehow bent the rules.  Granted, I had no client-facing business yesterday; had I needed to meet a client, I would have spent that extra four minutes in the bathroom.  For that matter, lots of ad agency gents will cultivate a day's growth of beard.

On the contrary, I generally don't shave when I have to go into the office on a weekend.  So maybe it's not a sign of defiance, per se, but a sign that if you see stubble, you're on my time, not yours.

Shave #11: Trouble in Paradise

The third Monday shave proved to test the limits of my reuse-until-my-face-bleeds experiment.  I could definitely feel the razor dragging a bit.  This experiment may have a shorter lifespan than I had intended.

The more I think about it, however, the more I recall what shaving used to be like for me.  I switched to the Mach3 maybe 15 years ago.  Before that, I used the Gillette Atra, which consisted of a pivoting head and two--count 'em two--blades.  I remember that I had to use after-shave balm of some kind (conveniently also produced by Gillette) because my face felt like fire after I shaved.  Every time.

And that's what we accepted.  So a blade that I've now used for two weeks still feels better than a brand-new blade from 15 years ago.

The upward spiral of consumer experience does not break new ground in the blogosphere, much less in the province of the written word.  We've all seen Facebook posts that tell us how today's college freshman never rode to school on a dinosaur or made fire by striking flint on steel, or what have you.  However, humble implements such as razors never make that list.

They should, however.

I remember that a Pakistani cab driver once told me not to complain about cheap Chinese consumer products.  In other countries, they have a whole other level of cheap Chinese consumer products.  He mentioned steam irons, for instance.  The steam iron you buy at Wal-Mart in America works as you expect it to work.  Nothing exciting, of course, but it works.

In Pakistan and other countries, they routinely get irons and other simple products that work for a month and then die.  I can't imagine a steam iron that simply doesn't work.  However, that kind of product evidently exists elsewhere.

So let us continue to celebrate the humble Schick Quattro and its unassuming competence.

Shave #8: Shaving Yourself in a Corner

Eight shaves on the cheap disposable razor and I've seen no decrease in shaving quality.

In some ways, razor manufacturers have created their own problem.  Yes, many if not most men change their blades/cartridges/disposables more frequently than I plan to do.  However, I suspect that they pour no end of money into their advertising to encourage men (or the women who buy their shaving supplies) to buy more often than they need to.

It reminds me of one of the first website development projects I worked on ages ago.  Gillette, then an independent company, hired my employer to help them develop an ecommerce site.  Specifically, they wanted to sell blades, Braun shavers (which they owned), Oral-B toothbrushes (ditto) and Duracell batteries (ditto).

They faced a considerable challenge: because they sold most of their product through mass marketers and supermarkets, they couldn't offer a lower price than retail.  They feared that, say, Wal-Mart might stop stocking their products if Gillette sold them at a discount directly.

Instead, they wanted to trade on convenience and selection.  They reasoned that buying online would allow consumers to free up their time to do other things.  Or that they could schedule monthly shipments of blades, batteries, brushes and so on.  Or that they could find the menthol-scented, sensitive-skin, extraplusdoublegood version of the product they used.

My clients needed a few rounds of focus groups to reveal the trap that they had set for themselves: they had trained the customer too well.

Walk into any mass retailer or supermarket.  More specifically, walk over to the checkout line.  What do you see?  Chances are, batteries and razor blades.  You'll also see entire store aisles dedicated to shaving products and batteries, with more stock-keeping units (SKUs, or types of products) than most people will ever need.  You'll also see battery displays near just about any battery-powered device sold in the store.  In short, Gillette simply couldn't make the purchase of their products any more convenient.

I don't have anything to add to this tale, except maybe that sometimes it helps to ask if a problem your organization is facing really is a problem after all.

Shave #7: Making Yourself Write

In part, I've decided to write about my day-to-day experience with a disposable razor to force myself to write every day, or at least every day that I shave.  Strangely, I find it harder to write every day than to shave every day.  I say "strangely" because I learned to write a good decade before I needed to shave, so you would think I'd have an easier time of writing.

Not so.

Writing, of course, requires much more mental effort than shaving.  I don't simply write starting at my left ear and work my way across to my right.  Hmmmm...actually, I do start on the left and work my way to the right, as does the writer of any language based on the Roman alphabet.

More accurately, I don't have to think to make myself shave.  It's something I do in between brushing my teeth and getting dressed.  To write this blog, for instance, I have to remember to take a moment among the meetings and phone calls and real work.  Then I have to think of a subject.

I suspect that it will get easier to write over time.  As I recall, those first few shaves seemed like torture.

So ask me again in a few months...or when I grow a beard.

Shave #6: Isn't it odd?

My second Monday shave (I don't shave on weekends) went better than the first.  My cheapo razor felt smooth and sure.

Over the weekend, I watched Louis C.K.'s HBO comedy special, which I loved.  If you don't know him, Louis specializes in skewing perspective.  His most famous bit, for example, transforms cell phone signals from an expectation into a blessed miracle (apologies for quality):

I've always thought that we take an easy shave for granted as well.  I mean, you're barely awake and you're flinging a piece of steel that's literally razor-sharp all around your nose, mouth and throat.  Yet you never read an obit with the line "the deceased was found in his bathroom with his throat slit and a can of Foamy in his hand."

Think of all the dangerous things that you do and then think about how far from waking up you do them.  Most people, for instance, shower, dress and even have a cup of coffee before operating a motor vehicle.  No one hops out of bed and says "let's fire up the table saw!"  Yet here we stand, most mornings, ready to slice away whatever falls in the path of our razors.

Amazing.

Shave #5: What's Wrong with Being a Lightweight?

On my fifth shave with the plastic wonder, I've come not only to notice its light weight, but to appreciate it.

Granted, my old Mach3 doesn't weigh a ton.  I can't find any specs, but it certainly can't weigh much.  The Quattro weighs considerably less in my hand.  You would think that the difference in weight couldn't possibly make much of a difference, but after a work-week's worth of shaving, I noticed a difference.  The plastic razor feels more maneuverable somehow.

Even odder, I feel somehow wrong that I like the lighter feel.  Guys are supposed to be tough.  They like big heavy things like pickup trucks or Charles Barkley.  Preferring a lighter touch must make me...well, at least I don't drink Tab.

Shave #4: The strangeness of a clean slate

The plastic wonder Schick Quattro continues to do its job without ceremony or fault.  I don't expect to notice a degradation of quality for another week or so.  However, the satisfaction of using such a cheap object kind of amazes me.

Actually, what really amazes me is that the thing exists at all.

Let me explain.  Cheap razors exist because of demand.  Lots of people need them.  More to the point, lots of people need them because we have established a clean shave as the norm.  Let me exclude women and legs from this conversation because I don't have the energy to touch one of the third rails of feminism.  Instead, ponder how strange it is that in most of the developed world, we expect men to have clean cheeks and chins.

Discounting men who have a religious commitment to facial hair (hipsters especially), clean represents the default option.  Despite ever-advancing facial hair, men generally decide to grow a beard or mustache rather than assuming that facial hair is the norm and that it takes effort to keep it off.  If men did nothing, they would have beards, yet they consider shaving several times per week the path of less resistance.

At first glance, you may assume that the clean-shaven norm results from the triumph of decades of marketing by Gillette and Schick.  I think, however, that the Greeks take credit for this one.

The ancient Greeks thought that foreigners talked funny.  In fact, all they heard when they talked was "bah bah bah bah."  So they called them barbaroi.  In turn, barbaroi came to represent the beards they wore and a more hirsute appearance in general.  The word came through Latin as the word "barber," as in to cut hair.  To wit, the Greeks differentiated themselves from those other people by assigning cultural superiority to shaven faces.

So, the adage should read, never trust Greeks bearing beards.

Shave #3: Hail Marius

I'm starting to enjoy the nuances of the Schick Quattro.  There's a little indent below the razor head on the top side where your index finger rests if you choke up on the handle.  Nice.

This experiment of using a cheap razor until it becomes unserviceable begs the question, however, of why I don't simply try to use one Mach3 cartridge until it stops working.  The short answer is that I have, and it has a shorter useful life than you might expect.

The blade on the cartridge holds an edge very well if you dry it off after use.  However, the razor head itself gives out.  The flange in the head that the tangs in the handle grab onto wear out.  So, after a month or so, the head falls off the razor every time I drag it across my face.

Which makes me wonder, does the Roman consul Gaius Marius hold the patent?

Marius never achieved the lasting infamy of someone like Julius Caesar or Marcus Aurelius, but without him, those two might have gone down in history as nameless Senators.  Marius's closest equivalent in American history lies in Andrew Jackson.  Both men escaped plebeian births by distinguishing themselves as generals and riding a populist wave.

Among other things, Marius invited the poorest of Roman citizenry to join the army.  Previously, the Roman army was a bring-your-own-spear affair.  The lowest classes simply couldn't afford to serve.  Marius won their loyalty by having the Republic provide them with weapons and army.

In addition, he also codified the position of the centurion, perhaps the world's first non-commissioned officer.  The centurions instilled discipline and professionalism into the legions that would soon dominate the Mediterranean basin.  Not coincidentally, the office of centurion provided something for aspirational poor in Rome to shoot for.  In concert, Marius's two major innovations turned the army into a force that smart politicians could use to overcome opposition both within and without Rome.

He also set the stage for disposable razors, I think.

Roman legionnaires typically carried two or three javelins that they hurled at the opposing army before closing the gap between them and attacking with a short sword.  The traditional Roman javelin had an iron point riveted to a wooden shaft.  While effective, the stout design allowed the enemy to pick up fallen javelins and throw them back.

Marius tweaked the old design by using a weaker rivet.  Marian javelins broke upon hitting the ground (or being pulled out of a target), rendering them useless.

So, perhaps we should refer to the Gilette model as the "javelin-and-spearhead" model instead of the "handle-and-cartridge" model.

Shave #2: In Support of Mass Production Culture

As I suspected, shave #2 felt smoother than shave #1.  The second time out, I've had time to appreciate some of the finer details of the Schick Quattro razor.  Plastic construction aside, it has some clear points of departure from the Mach3 models I've been using for a dozen years.

• The razor head is wider, covering more of the face with every stroke.  That's neither here nor there, really.  It just is.
• The head connects to the handle in the middle, whereas the Mach3 connects at the bottom.  Not sure about this feature, since the bottom-hinged Mach 3 seems better suited for delicate maneuvers.

Thinking about seemingly trivial details such as these encouraged me to think about the amount of thinking that goes into a prosaic product that has already evolved through uncounted generations.  More to the point, it shines a light on a hidden benefit of mass production--lack of pretension.

Most of us, myself included, like nicer things.  I've worn Thom McAn shoes and I've worn Eccos.  I can tell you that I like the Eccos better.  The problems start when you keep asking yourself if you should have something better.  Or, more properly, the problems start when you start believing you must have something better.

Taken to its extreme, this belief leads to companies like Porsche.  Let's say you've finally made it and can at last afford the car of your dreams, the veritable 911.  Congratulations: you will have the privilege of owning a truly fine automobile.  That will be $84,300.

But, oh, you don't really want the base 911, do you?  No, sir.  A sharp gentleman like you should settle for no less than the $98,900 Carrera S or, better yet, the $105,630 Carrera 4S.  How about wheels in black for an extra $1,635?  You really should have the ceramic composite brakes for a measly $8,520 more, should you?  And how about BOSE audio for $2,120?  No Herbert Von Karajan-conducted symphony would sound quite right without it.

When you start demanding better, marketers will always find something better to sell you, even if it really isn't any better.  However, when you accept the basic, you often find out how well basic works.  You armor yourself against pretention.

At least until Schick issues the Quattro with ceramic compound brakes.

Shave #1: Hope Floats

Let's cut to the chase (see what I did there?): the cheap disposable razor made short work of my weekend beard.  It didn't feel as smooth as a Mach3 cartridge, but the first shave on a new blade always feels weird to me.  Usually the second or third shave seems smoother.  Time will tell, I suppose.

Since I rarely use them, I had forgotten another key quality of disposable razors.  They float.  On the rare occasions that I do use disposables, I find the floating a little disturbing because of a superstition I have about shaving.  It comes from the movie "Miller's Crossing,"during a scene in which the bad guys are staking out a man they plan to shoot.  As they argue about proper shaving technique, the head bad guy, played by Jon Polito, explains that you should fill the basin with cold water and let your razor sit in it.  Cold water causes the steel in the razor blade to contract, thus presumably bestowing a sharper blade on the shaver.

I can't attest to the scientific proof of that assertion, but I do it anyway.

Cartridge-headed razors like the Mach3 usually feature metal handles that cause them to sink to the bottom of the basin.  Not so plastic disposables.  I shouldn't complain.  After all, the use of plastic brings the price down to less than $2 per razor at retail.  However, it feels cheap.

As consumers, we have a torrid love-hate relationship with plastic.  We love the economy and performance afforded by plastic, yet we hate the material itself.  In addition to cheap razors and other consumer products, we like bottles that don't shatter when you drop them, outdoor furniture that can't rust and bright, non-fading colors on things like magic markers and most of the housewares in Target.  However, we always have teetering landfills in the back of our minds when we think about plastic as a material.

I think our ambivalence towards plastic has another edge to it: mortality.  Plastic is immortal, but it comes from the same basic substances as we ourselves.  Carbon compounds pervade both plastics and the human body.  One will last forever, the other, substantially less.  Most plastic comes from oil--a fossil fuel.  One day, we shall become fossils ourselves.

Hmmm...better not to have such mortal thoughts whilst swinging sharp steel blades near my throat.

Welcome! Let's talk about sharp objects.

I'm going to shave with a cheap disposable razor until I can't stand it anymore.  In the interest of science.  The science of being cheap.

The Schick Quattros look lovely this spring

I actually have an armory full of Gilette Mach3 cartridges from Costco.  So why am I doing this?  Y'know those annoying online ads that begin "one stupid trick?"  Yeah, those.  All horseshit, of course.

However, I do know one little trick that can save you a lot of money if you shave with a cartridge-type razor, the kind with two or more strips of sharp metal as the shaving surface.  After you're done shaving, rinse the blade out and--here's the tricky bit--wipe it on your towel.

That's it.  Done.

Your razor dulls, as I understand it, because of rust.  I don't know whether that rust stems from water or the oils on your skin.  I do know that if you rinse & wipe the blade, you can use it for weeks at a time.

Recently, I found a disposable razor in the back of my linen closet, a Schick Quattro.  I don't remember how I got it; I may have received it as a sample in the mail or I may have gotten it from an amenity kit on a flight or from a hotel stay.  It seems pretty swank, though. The head pivots and has some kind of lubricating strip and four blades.  What else does one need?

The extreme cheapo side of me wants to see how far I can push this subversion of the razor-industrial complex.  Tune in Monday to see how it handles the weekend beard.

Meanwhile, if you have anything to share on razors or being a cheap bastard, kindly leave a comment.