In my first blog, I wrote about the hairdressing team, the Dutch national team of hairdressers. When I started this wonderful profession, I didn't know what that was yet. I learned that and much more from Herman Servaas.
Fresh out of training, I was cutting hair in my shed at home. My mother then went to Servaas in Utrecht. It turned out that a men's barber worked there who, at the age of 85, was still working on Tuesdays. Yes, you read that right. I had to go there, I had to see that. I called Marjon Servaas, his daughter, and asked if I could shadow her father on a Tuesday. Two weeks later, I arrived and got to know Herman.
Mr. Servaas turned out to be one of a kind. That Mr., by the way, was immediately thrown overboard. "I'm as young as I look," he said, "Herman for you, my boy."
Soon I was immersed in the old barber's trade. A recurring item for the next 4 months which, incidentally, was brought out just 2 minutes after we met was the photo album with all the old professional photos. This was a large red scrapbook with newspaper articles and photos where Herman had meticulously pasted his long career as a men's barber in chronological order.
Herman won several awards. He became Dutch champion and also received the golden scissors, presented by his grandson Jurren van der Gun. He was a judge at hairdressing competitions throughout Europe. He was also an examiner at the hairdressing vocational school. The most wonderful anecdotes came from there, about famous hairdressers who, after failing their exams 5 times, eventually bought them off with a crate of beer.
Herman always came to visit me after my time at Servaas. In Breukelen, Amsterdam, where his former colleague Wout van de Hare still worked, and even in The Hague when I was in the hospital. Always with his red clown nose. We would end those days enjoying a beer on a terrace.
You can learn a lot at school, but even more in practice. Herman taught me not to have strong political or religious opinions in the barbershop. "That way you remain interesting to everyone, Sjoerd." These are the things you don't learn in your barber course.
Mr. Servaas passed away on June 25th at the age of 89.
A wonderful, special man.
