I like a barber shop. It’s one of those places where things make sense, where there’s no subterfuge or duplicity. Guys are getting their hair cut; besides some conversation to pass the time, that’s all that’s going on. No one tries to sell you something you didn’t come in for, nothing you didn’t know you needed. The arrangements may involve subjectivity, but when you’ve been getting the same haircut for so many years, there’s zero temptation to be impulsive anymore.
When I finished college in 1986, I wandered the wasteland of hair salons for 5 years. Then my brother recommended this place in 1991. Since then, every haircut I’ve gotten has been in this simple but perfect barber shop; except one, because I needed a haircut when I was traveling. Best guess, about 150 haircuts in 27 years, all in the same chair. And 3 generations of the same family have been my barbers there.
In a world rushing headlong into an inscrutable maelstrom of change, I cherish continuity, simplicity, and the extraordinary gift of someone who knows what you like and appreciates a joke. I double dog dare you to name a better place to find that than a barber shop.
Metaphor 
Wherever I live I try to find a reliable, unpretentious, locally owned place. When I lived two hours away from here, it was a salon right next door, in my building, in fact. I could go very in my slippers with coffee in hand, and she could always work me in. She was the only person cutting hair, and she was the owner.
Now I walk a block away to a family owned barbershop. I like your description, no surprises, no sales talk.