'Hair is the first thing. And teeth the second. Hair and teeth. A man got those two things, he's got it all.’
James Brown

I knew when I first met my barber Simon, some time in the late ‘80s, that I would remain a loyal customer for many years to come. He talked animatedly about football and soul music. And he never asked me about my holidays.

Simon is an excellent hair cutter. He once styled George Best’s barnet, and he has over the years endeavoured to give me a look somewhere between Davids Soul and Essex. Nonetheless, I can’t really hold him accountable for my hair, as I tend to ruin it myself with wilful mismanagement.

Neat and dapper in his carefully selected vintage-wear, Simon sets about his business with confident dexterity, offering insight and opinion as he goes - about Tania Maria, Lamont Dozier, Bobby Womack and Harry Kane. He talks with wit and dry humour, and is prone to occasional bouts of melancholy - perhaps related to the fact that he supports Spurs. He has always avoided red clothes, furnishings and vehicles.

In the early days I followed Simon from salon to salon, travelling half way across London to make an appointment. There was a memorable period when he cut my hair, along with my flatmates’, in our ramshackle apartment in Turnpike Lane - a truly courageous act.

'Some of the worst mistakes in my life were haircuts.'
Jim Morrison

Eventually Simon set up his own studio in Crouch End, and decorated it discreetly with engine parts, a ‘70s wig and a vintage eye test machine. A year or so later, with the business doing well, he held a small celebration.

I arrived at the venue on my own, greeted Simon and congratulated him on his achievement. But I soon realised he was the centre of attention and I had to move on. I looked around the room at an assortment of awkward middle-aged men with artisanal jackets, Red Wing boots and Heineken bottles. Some were nodding their heads to the rare groove sound track, some were engaged in earnest conversation, some were looking intensely at their phones.

The trouble was I knew no one here. I felt a wave of social discomfort wash over me. Like a teenager at a disco, I had no idea what to say or who to say it to. And so I decided I just had to approach someone and dive in.

‘I like what Simon’s done with your hair.’

‘Oh, thanks, yours looks a bit like David Soul.’

The ice had been broken. Now the salon walls were echoing to vibrant debate and lively discussion. And I was right in the thick of things.

‘That’s almost a contemporary mullet.’

‘When I was younger I had a flick-head.’

‘It was salt-and-pepper, but I think now it’s mainly salt.’

‘Do you use conditioner?’

Of course, though we were all strangers, we had one thing in common: our hair. And this was enough to establish some social currency; to catalyse conversation; to get the ball rolling. Sprinkling my chat with the occasional ‘Mate’ to sustain my masculinity, I found I was having rather a good time. Eventually we even got onto subjects other than tonsorial.

'Too bad that all the people who know how to run the country are busy driving taxicabs and cutting hair.’
George Burns

Despite age and experience I have retained an awkwardness around strangers, a discomfort in certain social settings. I am nervous about first impressions, unconvinced by the magnetism of my conversational gambits. I fear sharp words and blunt remarks; hot heads and cold shoulders. I’m afraid of being alone in a crowd.

Of course, as my experience at the barber’s party illustrated, we can usually get along with anyone if we start with what we have in common. No matter the seeming distance between our backgrounds and lifestyles, our personalities and points of view, we usually share some interest or other: children, football, dogs, music, even hair.

This simple lesson applies as much to the commercial and political worlds as it does to everyday life. It pertains to challenging negotiations as much as it does to awkward conversations. As the American diplomat Henry Kissinger advised:

‘Build confidence by negotiating from areas of agreement towards areas of disagreement.’

So often in business we approach a dispute with our minds focused on conflict and contention, dissent and discord. We embark on arbitration obsessed with the distance between our positions, the difference between our points of view.

This gets us nowhere. We should always begin by seeking common ground, shared interest, mutual benefit. The route to resolving disagreement starts with recognising agreement.

I’m still Simon’s loyal customer. Occasionally I book his last appointment and we afterwards adjourn to a local restaurant. We talk animatedly about football and soul music. And he never asks about my holidays.

'Oh, hairdresser on fire.
All around Sloane Square,
And you're just so busy.
Busy, busy.
Busy scissors.
Oh, hairdresser on fire.'

Morrissey, ‘Hairdresser on Fire’ (S Morrissey / S Street)

No. 306