The Art of Simplifying a Skill
I have often expressed my reluctance to style my hair. For some reason, the sensation of the barber’s hands so close to my neck and face feels unnervingly intimate. If the barber happens to be an extrovert, I have to summon the courage to engage in an uncomfortable conversation about my personal life—and, inevitably, explain why I haven’t had a haircut in so long. The worst part, however, is attempting to replicate the exact same style every morning, only to watch it devolve into chaos after just a few hours. In fact, I disliked hair care so much that I went an entire year without getting a haircut. I convinced myself that I could deal with it once my hair grew longer, but in reality, I ended up hiding it under a baseball cap and letting it grow freely.
That changed after a trip to Japan.
The visit to the barber in Japan wasn’t planned. Something about being in a culture where public appearance is highly valued made me realize how little attention I had been paying to my own. It suddenly dawned on me that, by neglecting my appearance, I was sending a message about myself—one that was far from ideal. As my girlfriend had pointed out: “If you don’t care about your appearance, why would anyone else?” Since hairstyles are often the first thing people notice, I decided to get a simple trim to at least make my hair presentable.
After a warm greeting, the barber asked a question that took me by surprise: “How much time do you spend styling your hair every day?”
I paused. Not because the question was intrusive, but because no barber had ever asked me that before. I was used to the usual questions about length or style, but this one felt different. It was direct, yet polite. And more importantly, it assumed that I spent time styling my hair, which I didn't. I half-jokingly responded that it would take me about 20 minutes, though in reality, I often avoided the task altogether because I found it tedious—especially using products and a curling iron.
Her response was simple: “I understand. I’ll cut your hair in a way that makes it easy to style.”
As she worked, I began to see what she meant. The cut was designed to look natural and effortless. She curled my hair with rapid, efficient motions and adjusted the details with just the right amount of gel. It wasn’t the exact look I had shown her in the picture, but it was far better—subtle, polished, and infused with a touch of Japanese elegance.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but that simple question would have a lasting impact on how I approached other tasks in my life. The underlying message was clear: Sophistication doesn’t have to be complicated. Even something as seemingly daunting as styling hair can be simplified, achieving elegance with less effort.
This principle of simplicity didn’t just apply to hairstyling. Over time, I began to see parallels in other areas of my life.
For example, I had always prioritized functionality when it came to dressing myself—clothes that were warm, comfortable, and practical. But after my experience in Japan, I started asking myself: How can I look stylish while spending less time on my wardrobe? I began experimenting with minimalist clothing choices that were easy to pair and required little thought, yet still gave me the polished look I had been avoiding for so long. The process became less about perfection and more about efficiency and confidence.
Exercise was another area where I applied this principle. I had always been intimidated by the idea of a complex workout routine, thinking I needed to follow an hour-long session or use a multitude of equipment to see results. But after reflecting on the barber’s approach, I realized that fitness doesn’t have to be complicated. I began incorporating short, high-intensity workouts into my daily routine—something simple, effective, and easy to maintain. By focusing on efficiency rather than complexity, I was able to make progress without feeling overwhelmed.
In both dressing and exercising, I found that applying the principle of simplicity not only made these tasks easier but also more sustainable. I no longer felt burdened by the time and effort they required. Instead, I was able to achieve better results with less stress.
The lesson I learned in Japan wasn’t just about hair—it was about the art of simplifying. Sometimes, less really is more. Complexity can often be a barrier to success, whereas simplicity opens up new possibilities. Whether it’s styling your hair, dressing, or exercising, it’s not always about doing more; it’s about finding the most effective way to achieve the desired result.
Looking back, I realize that this lesson goes beyond the superficial. The more I apply simplicity to different aspects of my life, the more I understand its power. By stripping away unnecessary layers, I’ve become more efficient, focused, and, ultimately, more content. And all it took was a simple haircut to get me there.