Not sure what to do with your hair lately? Just check out Tom Hardy, who has one of the best—and easiest—haircuts a man can get. To make it even easier, we spoke to an expert who broke down how to ask for it on your next visit to the barber. — Jonathan Evans, style director
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Hardy’s had a lot of cuts, but this one is supremely classic and ideal for anyone. We found out how you can get it with ease.
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Now 49 years old, Tom Hardy’s had a plethora of different hairstyles across his career. He’s been no stranger to trying something new, whether it’s growing it long and luscious or shaving it all off—notably for his role in Bronson. Center-parting Beckham style? He’s done that. Jack Grealish–style headbands? Yep, that too. Right now, however, he’s rocking what our go-to hairstylist describes as “a real classic men’s haircut.”
Maxwell Oakley, cofounder of London-based premium barbershop chain Supply 91, sees his fair share of cuts. But for him, this is one that works for pretty much anyone. “It’s a simple, textured style with a decent amount of product to give it texture and hold,” he tells us. “We’ve seen it around for the best part of 20 years, and it’s never really disappeared, even if it’s never quite blown up as a trend. It’s low-maintenance, masculine, and has a slightly rugged feel to it, especially when worn with a bit of stubble.”
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Earlier this week, on a blistering day in Los Angeles, I walked into an Omega boutique outfitted unlike any other. Just off the sun-soaked main floor was a staircase leading to an exhibition on the second floor. It was dark, lounge-y—the kind of spot where you could imagine James Bond sinking into a sofa and sipping on a Vesper martini. And along the walls were glass display cases housing ephemera from 007’s onscreen career.
The miniature bombs released from Bond’s Aston Martin DB5 in No Time to Die were pretty damn cool. His passport and MI6 ID badge, too. But the thing I kept coming back to was across the proverbial aisle, in the section devoted to the goodies and gadgets used by Bond’s longtime nemesis, the nefarious global organization known as Spectre. It was Blofeld’s bionic eye. I know it’s not a real bionic eye. But in that space, surrounded by suited-up watch fans, I wanted to believe it was. Because mini bombs are neat, but if you ask me, bionic eyes win every single time.
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In the spring of 2011, I was living in Los Angeles and single after a bad breakup. My dad and Jamie were renting a house in Key West and encouraged me to crash in the spare bedroom for a couple weeks.
On my second-to-last night, at a bar called Durty Harry’s, I met a Clemson senior on spring break and fell in love. Always the one to nudge me off the edge of the diving board, my dad egged me on: “Why not toss out your return ticket, see where things with this girl might go?” Jamie agreed: “You never know.”
Four years later, Susan and I were married and living in Charleston, South Carolina. My dad and Jamie followed us, hoping for grandkids. They bought a house in Beaufort, a nearby waterfront town lined with ancient oaks and Spanish moss. My dad opened an antique shop on Bay Street, and everything seemed perfectly in place for his next act.
But he didn’t know how to slow down. When he got sick with double pneumonia, I knew it was because he was pushing himself to exhaustion at the store. His nightly double bourbons on the rocks didn’t help, either.
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