Combs & Cuts Barber Shop

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. One morning, as a regular was waiting for his turn, he overheard an unusual conversation between the barbers: ‘Did you hear? The new guy delivering groceries talks to customers in here like they’re getting their hair cut!’ The old-timer barbers shook their heads and chuckled. ‘That kid’s got some nerve!’ One of them leaned closer and whispered, ‘But I bet if he keeps it up, soon everyone will be asking him for both groceries AND a haircut!’ And that’s how Combs & Cuts became the place where neighbors swapped not just haircuts, but also stories and recommendations for the best deals on bread and milk.

2. At dawn, when most barbershops were still closed, an early riser noticed something peculiar outside Combs & Cuts. A delivery driver was whispering into his phone while loading packages onto his truck. Turns out, he was coordinating with a neighbor who needed some last-minute help for their garden. As the sun rose, the barbershop door opened, and the regular customer stepped out, whistling a tune—completely oblivious to the morning’s mini-adventure.

3. In the old Combs & Cuts Barber Shop, a little boy followed his dad inside one Saturday morning. As the barber clipped away, the kid’s eyes widened when he saw the ancient mirror hanging above the counter. Suddenly, it seemed to wink at him. The next thing anyone knew, the kid was pointing up and shouting, ‘Dad, look! The mirror is winking again!’ Everyone laughed, but the barber just smiled and said, ‘That’s not a mirror, son— that’s our old friend, Mr. Rusty Glass.’ And from then on, whenever someone mentioned the shop’s antique mirror, everyone would nod knowingly and say, ‘Oh yeah, that old guy who likes to wink.’

4. At midnight, when the streets of New Orleans grew quiet, a delivery driver pulled up outside the Combs & Cuts Barber Shop. The neon sign flickered ominously, and from within came a strange humming sound—like a distant accordion playing a haunting melody. Curious, the driver peered inside through the window. An old man with twinkling eyes was trimming a customer’s beard while softly singing along to the music. ‘You’re late tonight,’ said the barber without looking up. ‘Sorry, Mr. Jenkins,’ replied the driver sheepishly. ‘Next time I’ll know not to trust that old clock radio.’