So often, a barbershop is more than just a place to get a haircut. The classic fixtures and familiar rituals serve as the backdrop for community. Today, we’re telling four stories from D.C.’s barbershops—from places that have been here for decades to new spaces that are expanding the bounds of what a barbershop can be.  

Puglisi Barber Shop is busy on a Friday afternoon in mid-May. Chatter echoes through the small space as piles of hair expand on the floor. Tony Puglisi, the shop’s namesake, is in the back finishing up a cut. In a strong Sicilian accent, he can be heard over the din asking the customer if he likes his new ‘do. The answer, as it often has been over the last nearly sixty years, is ‘yes.’

Later, Puglisi is asked what’s the secret to a good haircut. “Just listening to people. If they ask for a certain style or way they want [their hair], do it the way they want.”

The 78-year-old has been a staple in Foggy Bottom for six decades. Puglisi and his uncle-in-law set up their first barbershop at 2143 Pennsylvania Avenue in 1960. Thirty years later, they moved across the street to 2100 Pennsylvania Avenue. And earlier this month, the barbershop moved to its third home: an English basement-style space at 2040 I Street (under the former home of Lindy’s Red Lion and next door to Captain Cookie and the Milkman).

“We are just barbers,” says Puglisi. “Rent goes up, so we have to move. But it’s okay.”

During a break, he sits on a bench outside of his Foggy Bottom shop, watching people walk by and reflecting on his long tenure behind the barber’s chair. He says hello to the faces he recognizes and smiles at those he doesn’t.

The neighborhood has changed significantly since he first starting cutting hair. Business has gone up, then down, and back up again. That’s not the only thing that’s changed: “People are always the same, but the hairstyles… the hairstyles have changed a lot,” says Puglisi while brushing clippings off his pants.

As a teenager and after World War II, his mother wanted him to learn a trade. So, he became an apprentice barber in Sicily. “I watched them cut hair every day,” he says. “Then, one day, they told me I was ready.”

Puglisi cut hair in Rome before moving to D.C. in 1960 with his wife Virginia and her family. When he arrived in America, he spoke no English, and, like most immigrants, was in search for a better life.

Puglisi remembers the exact day his barbershop opened: April 23rd, 1960. They were located in a townhouse that’s now been replaced by a glass and steel building owned by the World Bank.

From there, hairstyles tell the time.

In the 1960s, it was the flattop that dominated the scene. “Everyone wanted one; students, businessmen, everyone. And they were pretty easy to do,” says Puglisi. Back then, a haircut cost $1.50. “When we went up to two dollars, everyone complained, just like they do today,” he laughs.

In the 1970s, long hair reigned supreme. This was a death knell for many barbers, according to Puglisi, because long hair meant not getting it cut as often. He says his shop was able to survive because his uncle-in-law owned the building (he sold it in 1982) and they both knew how to cut long hair (“It’s about framing the face,” Puglisi says.)

Today, it’s the fade that’s in, and it’s a tough cut. “It takes a long time and mistakes are easily seen,” Puglisi says.

One barber doesn’t make a shop, though. Puglisi has assembled a roster that in many ways reflect who he is: a lifelong barber from a family of them.

Originally from Paraguay, Abel Gaona’s father, uncle, and aunt all worked in the hair business, too. He started cutting hair when he was a teenager still and loves it. “The people, the conversation, it’s what I was meant to do,” Gaona says.

Puglisi hired him when he was only 19—-that was thirty years ago. “The best thing that ever happened to me was finding Tony. He’s like a father to me,” Gaona says. “I mean, I love my father but I wouldn’t want to work for him everyday.”

Another long-timer in the shop is José Domingos, whose father was a barber both in Montreal and Argentina. Domingos started cutting hair when he was only 15. “I watched [my dad] every day while sweeping the floors. It just felt natural.” And, like Puglisi, he recalls the exact date of a milestone: “June 22nd, it will be 31 years since I started working for Tony….he’s always been there for me,” Domingos says. “Still is.”

The shop’s barbers are rounded out by Pedro Velazquez, who originally hails from Puerto Rico and has been cutting hair for fifty years (26 of which with Tony) and Abel’s brother David. David has been a barber for 25 years—he used to cut hair at the Watergate and the National Press Club—before being recruited to join Puglisi about two years ago. There’s also Tony Calabro, who’s from the same Sicilian town as Tony Puglisi and worked as a barber at the U.S. Senate for nearly 30 years before moving to Puglisi’s shop.

When asked why he thinks he’s inspired such loyalty and love from his employees, Puglisi pauses. “We’re family. You know, they are like my own boys.”

It isn’t just the barbers that have kind words for the Sicilian barber.

Joseph Levi, a professor at George Washington University, says he’s been coming here for a few years. He keeps coming back because of the excellent service, sure, but also that he loves speaking Italian with Puglisi.

Babak Hoghooghi has been getting haircuts from Puglisi since 1991. “I don’t have to say anything anymore. I just sit down.”

News anchors, students, office workers, the president of George Washington University, and important government officials have all frequented this barbershop. Puglisi’s favorite thing are the conversations, though there are a certain topics he won’t touch. “I won’t talk politics or religion,” he says. “Everyone has a different opinion and I don’t want customers upset.”

The barber has come to personify the American dream. He owns his own business, has kids (two daughters, one is a lawyer and the other a school teacher), and has enjoyed a six-decade-long marriage to Virginia. He still loves cutting hair even if he’s only doing it two days a week now.

As we sit on the bench outside and his own white hair shines in the spring sunlight, the shop door swings open and a customer walks out with a fresh cut. The barber smiles and waves a goodbye. The customer returns the smile saying, “Thanks. See you next time, Tony.”

This story has been updated to correct the relationships of two of the barbers.  

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