I just saw "The Night Before". In part, it's an exploration of one dude's desire to relive his supposed roseate past with his friends. But when the film flashed back to that earlier, ostensibly halcyonic era, the only thing that seemed better was the hair. Maybe he was subconsciously yearning for his quondam coif. For friends who bravely bearded the bounds of fashion to do intriguing things with their facial follicles. That wouldn't be the worst moral. Don't get trapped in nostalgia. Just get a better barber.
Best night before a thing? That one before Christmas.