This long-in-the-making, father and son project is literally a celebration of antique razors, fueled by a shared passion for these remarkable tools that were once an everyday part of life for millions of people.
The father has a vast collection of antique razors and accumulated knowledge concerning their usage; in turn, the son brings specialized expertise in broadening accessibility to both new and old generations. Their combined goal is to share an appreciation for these artifacts and facilitate others to admire their stylistic and historical significance. They wish to preserve and showcase while keeping an important part of history alive.
We hope that this project helps you appreciate the inherent beauty of antique razors and perhaps encourages you to explore the rich history of other unassuming objects that have shaped our world. Please subscribe to our channel to help us keep creating content. Your support means everything!
I was gushing over this intro not a single word was on cam for about 10-20 minutes as they scene in the set up of these 3 lads tying up the barber and trying to take out the sheriff but he smells right through it
I appreciate what you are doing with this father-son project. What a wonderful memory making thing to do together. I am also a dedicated wet shaver with a few of my own razors in my collection. I have two older Gillette DE razors now. One is a 1951, my birth year Gillette in nice shape and which I regularly use. I love the nostalgia surrounding old razors and shaving the way my father did. Hopefully, you son creates a solid bond with you over such an innocent, historical and interesting hobby we can enjoy regularly. You are a great Dad!
The background of the story is the country side in the north-east of the Netherlands, somewhere in the 20's or 30's, when land workers were traveling from farm to farm to find work and earn some money. Here it is (I had to translate it from a dialact which is spoken in the north-east of the Netherlands and English is not my first language, so there will probably be spelling and grammar errors): On the other side of the bridge over the ditch stood a dog, a Dobermann, snarling and barking. Through my 8 year old eyes it looked like a monster. "Come, walk on!", my father said and he stepped upon the bridge. I followed him, with my eyes closed. The dog snarled and growled even harder and slowly walked upon the bridge, towards us. He was ready to jump. I quickly closed my eyes again. Suddenly I heard a splash. I opened my eyes and was afraid that my father fell into the water. But he stood there on the bridge and I saw him closing his knife, his razor sharp Herder, and put it back into his pocket. Beneath, in the ditch I saw the dead dog drifting. The water around it got red. Then I saw and heard the farmer, he was shouting and ran towards us. When he stood in front of my father he shouted: "What did you do with my dog?!" There was a moment of silence and then my father replied: "I'm here to get my salary for the past week." My father had worked the whole week at this farm to harvest potatoes. He continued: "And who thinks I will not get my earned salary, will also disappear in the ditch." My father had his eyes fixed on the farmer and the farmer turned pale. Then he turned and walked back to his farm. We followed him and in the kitchen my father got his salary. "There will be no work for you here anymore", the farmer said. I saw on the look of my fathers face that he didn't even want to work at this farm anymore. When my father died forty years later, my brothers and sisters had to divide the things he left. I wanted only one thing: his last Friedrich Herder knife, which now lays on the bottom of a copper box
Great story! It’s fascinating how small material objects sometimes play significant roles in dramatic stories like the one you’ve shared. Thanks for sharing it! Greetings from Argentina!
