A good shave.

The razor belonged to my grandfather. I never really learned how to shave when I was a kid- my Dad has had a beard almost as long as I can remember.

But somehow over the course of years, I pieced together the proper ingredients for a good shave. When it's done right, my face feels better than it did before I shaved.

There are a hundred ways to shave faster, closer. It's a ritual. It's slow. The foam is heavy with oils, the brush is just stiff enough, the hot water is perfect. And then the shave, slow, short, repetative strokes. Don't try and take it all off in one go, just relax. First my left cheek. Then the right. The mustache is next, followed by the neck and then the chin, leaving the toughest hair to sit and soften the longest.

More hot water to rinse my face, then a dab of aftershave cream.

Perfect.