Of all the intimate experiences a guy can get for 15 bucks, a beard trim is my favorite. Sure, I could just buy a clipper and clean things up myself, except a) I'm lazy, and b) the experience at Freemans Sporting Club is impossible to replicate. The hipster barbershop's throwback environment centers around men talking about manly things—think Mel Brooks movies, Stan Bush's "The Touch," "the woman in the pink dress." Of course, it's easier to hear all that when you have a towel over your eyes, which is the first thing that happens after your barber leans you back in the chair, dentist-style. (Said towel did, sadly, cause me to miss the pink-dress beauty.)

Last time I went, my barber was Van, an agreeable fishing enthusiast from Westchester. He started me off with a second towel—this one warm, wet, and smelling of shaving cream, which got my beard a-tingling. After a minute or so to soak it up, he removed it and started with the clippers. I know I'm conforming to the Freemans urban-hillbilly stereotype here, but I prefer to keep things on the gruff side, so I had him leave some growth on my face before using an electric trimmer for a bit of texture. After all that, he shaved the edges on my neck and cheeks, and I completed the transformation from mountain man to refined mountain man—a crucial distinction. Especially when hoping to impress women in pink dresses.
Freemans Sporting Club, 8 Rivington St., New York, NY, (212) 673-3209, freemanssportingclub.com