First Person: ‘Everybody is living their lives and I adjust the haircut for them’

“First Person” shares the stories of people who make a life here, in their words. Conversations are edited for clarity and length.

Sarah Fournier, 48, owns The Barlow, an Orr’s Island shave parlor and barbershop that opened this spring in her home on Lane Road.

I love being a barber because it’s one of the only industries where you’ll see somebody who’s 85 still going in and working a few hours. People do it their whole lives. It’s not something you get into and can’t wait to retire from.

I started as a cosmetologist at Akari in Portland, training as a hair-cutting specialist and focusing on that for 10 years, mostly doing women’s hair. Cosmetologists remove weight so that you have more of a flow, while barbers cut to create weight and a shape. Barbering is also, of course, the hot towel and straight razor.

I moved to Orr’s Island in 2022 and did a winter rental on Leeman Road. I found a house that was literally getting sprayed by the ocean and it reminded me of my grandmother’s house. I thought, “Perfect.”

My family and I are Mi’kmaq, First Nation, in Canada. My grandmother, Margaret, lived in New Brunswick, just above the Bay of Fundy. She’s who my shop is named after; her maiden name was Barlow and she had a big part in raising us. Naming my shop The Barlow was my way of honoring the matriarchs.

My grandmother ran the only store on the reserve (the Canadian term for what is called a reservation in the United States). The closest place you could go to get anything was a little French village that was a 25-mile drive away. People didn’t have driver’s licenses, so they needed a place close by. She stocked most of what her neighbors needed, so they could just walk over.

I didn’t go right into hair cutting. I went to the University of Southern Maine while bartending at places like the State Theatre, Top of the East and Three Dollar Deweys to pay the bills. I’d serve drinks late into the night, and then go to classes in the morning. I ended up going to hair school because I was tired of bartending. And I figured I could put in time in hair school and take a break from college. But I was able to do both, and eventually got a bachelor’s degree in business and marketing.

I went down to the suburbs of Boston for about five years, and then came back to Maine. My mom’s health wasn’t the best. She had Parkinson’s for over 10 years. While I was helping to care for her, I looked for another hair-cutting job, but I couldn’t find a place that fit. Every shop has its own vibe, you know?

One place was hiring a barber. I talked to the owner, who said I wouldn’t need a barbering license if I just cut hair, but if I wanted to offer shaves and use a straight blade, I would need to apprentice. So I did that for about 2 1/2 years, worked at a barbershop in Portland and helped open a shop in Old Orchard Beach.

Shortly after moving here, I met Glenn Rogers, a captain from a multigenerational lobstering family. We started dating and, eight months later, moved in together. In March, I opened my own shop in our house. A lot of shops are just “next customer, next, next.” I wanted to be able to spend as much time with each client as I like, to do custom cuts and really work with them.

The majority of my clients come every month or so. They pop in, sit down and relax and shoot the shit; you end up building a rapport. These are barber cuts, so nobody feels really hurt with the price. I do senior cuts for $25. A men’s regular is $30. A scissor cut or a skin fade, which is a little more detailed and time-consuming, is $40. And I do a hot towel shave and beard trims with a haircut for $60.

I do hot towels and hot lather and straight blades with brand-new, clean razors, finishing with a cold towel and aftershave. I try to keep the price down so people don’t feel like it’s only something for special occasions.

I have a client who’s going through radiation. He’s always had a really big beard that is a part of his identity. He came in the other day and said, “Well, you don’t have to do the beard trim today. The radiation’s taking care of it.” I said, “No, we can still do it.” So I just took it down to a five o’clock shadow. Put the lines in. So he still had his sharp-looking beard, only shorter.

Clients leave my shop feeling cleaned up. They look more presentable for interviews. If their boss who usually isn’t around is now on site more often, they can put their best foot forward. If they have a surgery coming up, I cut their hair extra short because they won’t be able to get in for a while. Everybody is living their lives and I adjust the haircut for them.

I end up meeting a lot of my clients’ families. I love doing kids’ cuts as long as they sit. If they won’t, I don’t pin them down and shave their heads. In old-school barbering, you would have. If the parents said they were getting a haircut, you gave that child a haircut. That was not my favorite.

People talk about their lives and I listen. I used to bartend; it’s pretty similar. Some of my clients have been coming to me for over 10, 15 years. Some of them drive from Scarborough or Damariscotta. Some of them don’t have the time to come each month. And so they’ll schedule on a weekend and come up and get a haircut with their family and then go to Cook’s and have lunch.

A barber is a personal choice. Once you start seeing them, you tend to always see them. My customers come from all walks of life. There are lobstermen, summer people, Bowdoin students, and police, firemen and the military who need regulation haircuts every 10 days. I can do all hair lengths and textures; I serve African Americans, Hispanics, Jewish people with textured hair. I do women’s cuts as well.

Because I have a small studio, it allows people who are shy, have autism or simply don’t like a lot of attention to sit down and quietly get a cut. I have a lot of clients who bring their sons in. They had previously been bringing them to hair salons, but a 12-year-old boy getting a haircut doesn’t want 15 women going, “Oh, hi, cutie!”

I’m proud of the space. Glenn planed and molded all the woodwork, and the antlers on the wall are from Orr’s Island deer he got with archery. The totem pole outside was made by one of my cousins. The barbershop pole is inside, but we lined it up so people could see it through the window as they drive or walk by.

This feels like home, even though I’m not from here; it’s a small community where people look out for one another. You don’t find that often in Portland. And I love the range of people who come through the door, from very young to very old. I’ve done first haircuts, and I’ve done last haircuts.