Jose Alvarado
On a mid-July day last year, one of the hottest in New York City’s history, I wandered down Suydam Street in Bushwick, sweating from the unabating sun that left the white, cotton tee draped about my shoulders soggy and bothersome. As I continued my walk, I stumbled across the tiniest barbershop I had ever seen: it took up no more than the space of a single garage. “Lalo’s Barber Shop” was printed in red capitalized letters on window.
The rest of this story is for members.
Enter your email to continue.
You’re signed in as .
Not you?
