Mister Pompadour is more than a barbershop where men with beards mingle. It’s a place where those wielding the tools of their trade cut, coif, and craft that which Solomon coveted and Rip Van Winkle aspired to. Living bearded is not simply a mantra to be tossed around like corn hole bags. It’s a lifestyle. Unlike the “He Man Woman Hater’s Club”, there’s no hate here. All are welcome, even those shaven faces only a mother could love.

Living bearded is not simply a mantra to be tossed around like corn hole bags.

It’s where Sasquatch and The Beast, like frogs, transform into well manicured gentlemen. Leather tool belts, like quivers of ancient warriors, hold scissors, trimmers, and other magic wands that mold even the most unkept bed heads.

C’mon by. Grab a beer. Have a seat and sit a spell. This old school approach to exceptional beard cuttery in a new school world is worth your green bills. My man card has been punched, my ego lifted, and those jagged edges that once slowed my roll have been made strait again (I think there’s a country song in there somewhere, but I digress).