The Razor Paradox: How Electric Shavers Lost to Foam, and Advertising Won the War

In 1987, an incident occurred in the newsroom of the Wausau Daily Herald that might have seemed trivial but became a perfect illustration of the eternal debate between traditional shaving and electric devices. Reporter Pat Rice, known for his sharp pen and love of provocation, received an electric razor as a gift from his wife. The problem was that Rice was a staunch advocate of classic shaving—razor and foam. He didn't want to offend his wife, but he couldn't come to terms with the noise and, as he saw it, the insufficiently smooth result. So Rice devised a plan: he would shave one half of his face with the electric razor and the other half with a razor and foam, then visit local officials and police officers to have them judge which side was smoother. The idea was so absurd that section editor Paul Kennedy immediately seized upon it. A photograph of Rice with a half-lathered cheek and electric razor in hand adorned the Sunday edition, and readers were delighted.

This story is not just a curiosity from a provincial newspaper's life. It exposes a deep cultural layer associated with shaving—a ritual that throughout the 20th century was not only a hygienic procedure but also a battlefield for marketers. From Burma-Shave's roadside verses to Noxzema's sexual innuendos and Farrah Fawcett's glamour, shaving product advertising evolved into a genre of its own, and the products themselves became collectibles. Today, when electric razors are commonplace and shaving foam is sold in every supermarket, the story of how Rice staged a public test reminds us that the choice between razor and blade is not just a matter of convenience but of identity.

The Road to Fame: Burma-Shave and Its Verses

The most famous advertising campaign in shaving history began in 1925 when Burma-Vita, a company producing brushless shaving cream, launched an unusual project. Allan Odell, a sales manager, inspired by a row of signs at a gas station in Illinois, proposed placing small rhyming quatrains along roads. Thus, the famous Burma-Shave signs were born—six small boards installed sequentially, each with part of a poem. For example: "Are your whiskers / When you wake / Tougher than / A two-bit steak? / Try / Burma-Shave."

The campaign was so successful that by the early 1950s, about 7,000 sets of such signs were installed across the country. The verses varied: from praising the product ("Every day / We do our part / To make / Your face / A work of art / Burma-Shave") to playful romantic innuendos ("Dewhiskered / Kisses / Defrost / The / Misses / Burma-Shave"). Later, "social" verses appeared, warning against drunk driving: "Drinking drivers / Enhance their / Chance / To highball home / In an ambulance / Burma-Shave."

Burma-Shave survived the Great Depression and wartime years but couldn't withstand speed. The construction of the interstate highway system, initiated in 1956 after the signing of the Federal-Aid Highway Act, meant drivers passed the signs too quickly to read them. Sales declined, and in 1963 the company was sold to Philip Morris. By 1966, the original shaving cream had disappeared from shelves, and the signs were dismantled. However, Burma-Shave left an indelible mark on advertising history and became a collector's item—original signs can now be found at auctions for hundreds of dollars.

Sex as a Weapon: Noxzema and "Take It All Off"

In the year Burma-Shave ceased to exist, a new commercial aired that revolutionized the perception of shaving. Swedish model Gunilla Knutson, crowned Miss Sweden in 1961, appeared in a Noxzema ad, pressing a jar of cream to her cheek. With the jazz tune "The Stripper" playing in the background, a man shaved in time to the music, while Knutson, looking into the camera, uttered a phrase that became legendary: "Take it off. Take it all off."

This ambiguous message worked: from 1965 to 1968, Noxzema rose from sixth to third place in US shaving cream sales. As the Times-Herald of Vallejo, California, wrote in 1968, Knutson replaced "hard sell" with "sex sell." The ad became so iconic that in 1973, Noxzema went even further, inviting American football star Joe Namath and up-and-coming model Farrah Fawcett.

The commercial, first aired during the Super Bowl, began with Namath, grinning, saying, "I'm so excited, I'm going to get creamed!" Fawcett applied foam to his face, and the jingle urged: "Let Noxzema cream your face, so the razor won't." At the end, Namath complimented Fawcett: "You've got great hands." Advertising historians consider this 30-second spot the first truly effective and memorable Super Bowl ad, establishing the tradition of using sexual appeal and celebrities. The cost of airing in 1973 was about $88,000—today, a similar slot costs around $8 million.

Farrah Fawcett: From Ad to Legend

For Farrah Fawcett, the Noxzema commercial was a springboard to fame. In 1976, her photograph in a red swimsuit with flowing hair became the best-selling poster in history—12 million copies worldwide. The cultural impact of this image was so great that a copy of the poster and the swimsuit itself are now housed in the Smithsonian National Museum of American History in Washington. That same year, Fawcett landed the role of Jill Munroe in "Charlie's Angels," turning her into a superstar.

But let's return to Pat Rice. His experiment ended predictably: most officials who felt his face preferred the razor and foam. Rice was pleased, but his wife was not. The public humiliation over a gift, described in the newspaper, caused a domestic scandal that Rice himself dubbed a "razor burn." Eventually, the electric razor was thrown—according to Kennedy, nearly hitting the reporter in the head. This story, recounted by Paul Kennedy, former editorial director of Kovels Antique Trader, illustrates not only a funny incident but also how shaving implements have become part of our culture and collectibles.

How Brands Learned from Mistakes: Lessons from Gillette and Schick

While Burma-Shave and Noxzema won hearts with verses and scandalous ads, industry giants Gillette and Schick took a different approach. They bet on technology and the male audience but often stumbled over their own overconfidence. For example, in the 1960s, Gillette introduced a line of electric razors with rotary heads that were supposed to be a breakthrough. However, consumers complained of skin irritation and insufficiently smooth shaves, and sales fell short of expectations. Meanwhile, Schick, trying to lure customers, launched an ad campaign directly comparing its razors to Gillette models, leading to lawsuits and confusion among consumers. These mistakes showed that even giants are not immune to failure if they ignore users' real needs.

The Psychology of Shaving: Why Men Don't Change Habits

Why did Pat Rice from our story cling so desperately to foam and blade, rejecting his wife's gift? It's not just about shave quality. Psychologists and marketers have long noticed that for many men, the shaving ritual is not merely a hygienic procedure but a moment of personal space and self-control. The scent of cream, the feel of warm water, the sound of a sliding blade—all create a sensory anchor associated with the start of the day and confidence. Electric razors, in contrast, are perceived as mechanical, lacking this intimacy. Studies from the 1980s, for example, showed that over 60% of men who tried electric razors returned to traditional shaving within a month, citing "feeling of cleanliness" and "ritual." Advertisers quickly picked up on this emotional component and began building campaigns not on technical specs but on feelings: "You're not just shaving—you're becoming better."

The Collectible Value of Advertising Artifacts: From Signs to Packaging

Today, advertising that once evoked smiles or controversy has become a collector's item. Burma-Shave signs, tin shaving cream jars, vintage posters of Farrah Fawcett—all can be found at auctions and antique shops. Prices vary: a simple Burma-Shave roadside sign can cost from $50 to $200, while a rare example with original paint can fetch up to $500. Noxzema packaging from the 1960s with a model's image is valued at $30–80, and a complete set of Fawcett promotional posters at $200–400. Items associated with failed campaigns are of particular interest: for instance, Gillette razors from the unsuccessful 1960s line sell online for $20–50, but their historical value is rising. For collectors, not only preservation matters but also provenance—the item's history. Thus, a sign from a specific highway photographed in the 1950s can be worth twice as much.

How Museums and Brands Preserve Advertising Heritage

Advertising artifacts don't just gather dust in private collections—they become part of museum exhibits. For example, the Smithsonian's National Museum of American History has a section dedicated to 20th-century advertising, featuring Burma-Shave signs and early electric razors. Corporate archives also play a role: Gillette and Schick preserve their advertising materials and sometimes lend them to museums for temporary exhibitions. This helps brands maintain a connection with history and demonstrate the evolution of marketing. For researchers, such collections are an invaluable resource: they allow tracing how notions of masculinity, hygiene, and technology have changed. Some companies, like Cracker Barrel, use antiques in their interiors, creating living history, but advertising items more often remain in museums or private hands, as their preservation requires special conditions.