Rasoir Barbe du Jour Miroir Trop Intime

{from HOW I FOUND EUROPE}

Shaving methodically each day, leaving accidental patches of beard which vary with the irregularity of the light. Then at a friend's house in Lille he is confronted by a make-up mirror, attached to the wall on an accordion stand, which displays to an uncomfortable degree his bristles. Reversed, the image magnifies, showing every hair disconcertingly black, nestling in its pore. It makes for a formidably close shave, even with a dull blade, since the mirror obliges him to cover the ground more than once before it'll show a smooth reflection. The view it gives of flesh contours is terrifyingly close up and personal. A bubble of blood beneath his nose, another when he whisks the hair off his chinny-chin-chin, resemble gashes across the chests of startled hussars in battle scenes lately viewed at the Louvre.

C 2005, 2007 Martin Heavisides