People ask me all the time, “Why did you become a barber?” That’s just a nicer way of saying, “Out of all the career options, you chose clippers and hair splinters?” It’s a fair question.
Sometimes they ask out of curiosity; sometimes I can see on their faces that they expected a guy with a beard and tattoos, not a woman with clippers and a business license. Either way, my answer is usually the same: “This was not something I had ever considered doing. In fact, I used to look at my own hair stylist in utter fascination, thinking I could NEVER talk and cut hair at the same time.”
So how does a thirty-something mom suddenly decide to pick up a straight razor and use it on strangers?
Short version: I like working. I just never settled on a career (late-diagnosed ADHD, anyone?). After my last baby, I was job-hunting, and my husband encouraged me to pursue a career, something that could support our family if anything ever happened to him. That made sense and hair school seemed doable.
Long version? Well...
You know those career aptitude tests you take in high school? Turns out they still work when you’re a grownup. “Hair stylist” kept popping up in my top three. So I looked into cosmetology school. I knew the income potential was solid, and I was ready for the challenge. I enrolled at the Paul Mitchell School of Cosmetology in Metairie, where we lived at the time.
For five months I wrestled four kids to and from three different schools before heading to my classes, coffee in hand. I made it work. Until summer hit with no affordable childcare to be found. That, paired with the growing realization that I do not enjoy chemical services or women’s styles in general, led me to take a leave of absence. Then, BAM—pandemic.
We moved from Metairie to Mandeville in September 2020. It was a big change, but I grew up around here, and it felt like coming home. Once we settled in, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I enjoyed cutting hair... just not women’s hair. I’d already learned enough to handle the men and boys in my family, and my amazing husband gently nudged me toward barbering. I, like many of you, hadn’t given much thought to women in the barbering world, it just seemed so male-dominated. But the more I looked into it, the more I realized: female barbers are flourishing. It felt daunting, but I was down for the challenge and excited about the possibilities.
That’s when I decided to explore the barber apprentice program through the Louisiana Board of Barbers. I was so nervous walking into local Mandeville barbershops, asking if they had a barber willing to take me on.
I visited six shops that first day and got three offers. I was thrilled, and even better, my top choice was among them. That same week was our sixth wedding anniversary, and my dear husband nixed the gift he had planned and gave me the money to buy all the tools I needed. Swoon.
So there I was: fully stocked station, still nervous. I started by shampooing clients, then moved on to straight razor neck shaves, all while watching the barbers work, asking questions, studying my barber textbook and even watching YouTube tutorials. Two weeks in, I walked in to find a client in my chair. Surprise! But I work best under pressure, so I got to it. That first haircut took almost two hours. Yikes.
From there, I did free haircuts for two months, then started charging a discounted rate. Within six months, my barber had me charging the same as everyone else in the shop. That was the confidence boost I needed to keep going—and trust me, it was hard.
This is where I have to give a massive shout-out to the barbers who helped me. They let me shadow, answered my endless questions, and calmed me (and occasionally a client) when I got overwhelmed. I learned something unique from each of them, and I’ll always be grateful.
I worked at that first shop for several years. During that time, I finished the apprentice program, passed the State Boards with flying colors, and built a loyal client base filled with some of the best men and families on the Northshore.
Even though I was new to barbering, I had over a decade of customer service experience and had previously owned two businesses. So while I was learning how to cut hair, I already knew how to run a business. Eventually, I realized the freedom of operating my own shop was where I was headed.
There’s something weirdly satisfying about this job. You work with your hands, get instant feedback, and no two days are the same. One minute I’m trimming a neckline, the next I’m wrestling humidity, cowlicks, and someone who swears the Madisonville bridge is out to get them.
I’ve had the privilege of doing fiancé-approved wedding haircuts, graduation cuts, and three-months-past-due new dad haircuts (complete with adorable baby photos), and everything in between. Recently, I even trimmed the beard and hair of a repeat contestant on Naked and Afraid the day before he flew out for round three. I can’t wait to see my work on national TV!
Most of the time, barbering isn’t glamorous. You're on your feet all day, sweeping up hair like it breeds when you’re not looking, and there's always one guy who thinks their barbers nose doesn't work. Not to mention the towels that are forever in need of folding, like some kind of warm, fluffy punishment. But there’s a rhythm to it. The banter. The routine. The tiny victories—a perfect taper, or fixing someone else’s haircut disaster.
I didn’t get into this to “change lives” or “redefine masculinity” or any of that poetic fluff. I just like the work. It’s honest. It’s hands-on. It gives me a little dopamine. It lets me meet all kinds of people without having to bring a dish or wear uncomfortable shoes. And it (mostly) pays the bills.
So yeah, I’m a barber. And whether it’s the clippers, the conversations, or the fact that I can make my own schedule, I’m staying right here. Behind the chair. Doing what I love.
And honestly? It suits me.
Written by Chelsey Simons
Owner and Barber at The Barbers Chair located in beautiful Mandeville, LA.
