Fodrászattörténeti Gyűjtemény, tucked away on the quiet streets of Kecskemét, is the sort of quirky treasure that even local Hungarians sometimes overlook. It’s not just another museum filled with static displays and faded text panels; this is a living, breathing homage to the weird and wonderful world of hairdressing. If you’ve ever sat in the barber’s chair and wondered how on earth someone came up with the idea of a perm, or peered nervously at curling irons and razors, this collection will answer all your questions – and leave you with a few new ones.
The Collection of Hairdressing History owes its existence to László Mihály, a master barber and passionate collector, who started amassing hairdressing memorabilia in the 1950s. Through years of thrift-shop dives, antique market gambles, and whispered word-of-mouth tips, László built what became possibly the most comprehensive national scrapbook of Hungarian coiffure culture. The collection grew from modest beginnings into thousands of items: scissors and razors of every conceivable variety, hand-crank hair clippers, hairdryers the size of modern vacuum cleaners, pre-war colognes in glass bottles that look like alchemy experiments, straightening tongs, and even barber chairs that could tell a few stories — if only upholstery could talk.
One especially curious feature is how the exhibits blend practical, everyday objects with humorous and sometimes slightly bizarre artifacts. There’s the menacingly heavy, cast-iron perm machine that takes pride of place on one display — a contraption from the early twentieth century, studded with wires and rollers, resembling a cross between a torture device and a steampunk dream. Early advertisements for moustache waxes and beard creams recall a time when personal grooming was both a luxury and a source of pride. And just when you think you’ve seen it all, you’ll spot cheerful ceramic “shaving mugs” with painted portraits of moustachioed Hungarian gentlemen, adding a touch of charm to the utilitarian.
Wandering the rooms, you start to trace the subtle connections between hairstyles and society — how an elegant chignon or a well-trimmed moustache reveals politics, pop culture, and technology. The walls are decorated not just with the tools of the trade, but also with countless photographs: grainy sepia portraits from the 1920s, black-and-white snapshots of local barbershop quartets, group shots from professional gatherings. It’s history through the lens of hair, and you slowly realize just how much time, artistry and even risk was involved in keeping Hungarians looking sharp for weddings, revolutions, or first dates.
One of the most surprising aspects of the Fodrászattörténeti Gyűjtemény is its atmosphere; it’s irreverent, playful, and clearly fueled by the collector’s boundless affection for the trade. A visit here is less like touring a museum and more like rummaging through an eccentric uncle’s attic, guided by someone who passionately insists every battered shaving bowl and faded diploma has a tale worth telling. Even if you don’t know your pompadour from your pageboy, there’s something infectious about the energy — you leave looking at modern salons through new eyes, realizing today’s styles walk in the footsteps of a centuries-old, madcap tradition.
So, if you’re ever winding your way through Kecskemét and fancy a break from the standard course of art galleries and churches, step inside this wonderful little time-capsule. Marvel at the ingenuity of our forebears, gasp at the hair-raising contraptions, and spare a thought for all the brave souls who once trusted their locks to the skilled — and daring — hands of barbers past. It’s a lesson in humility, humanity, and, above all, hair.
