Hairstyles have come and gone, but long-time East End barber Frank Vaiana has always remained – until now.

All is quiet inside Frank’s Gents Hairdresser, the go-to place for a clip in Adelaide’s East End.

A waiting customer is reclined in a seat near the entrance, legs crossed, waiting for a trim up top. As CityMag walks through the door, the older man looks up from his newspaper. “Frank’s just eating his lunch,” he says.

Frank Vaiana is sat in the corner of his barbershop, quietly munching on a sandwich and flicking through the latest news on an iPad, taking occasional sips from a water bottle.

He’s surrounded by mementos. There are photos of himself, a Certificate of Registration, a globe, some abstract art – and some of his own framed photography. The soundtrack to Frank’s world is the crackly yet dulcet sounds of Cruise 1323.

After what could have been 10 minutes, Frank, who is 82, rises, dusts the crumbs from his pristine white jacket and gestures the waiting customer into a 1970s orange-coloured barber chair.

For decades, generations of visitors, like Frank’s guest today, have come in search of Frank’s grooming know-how.

But after 65 years and countless locks fallen to his linoleum floor, Frank is preparing to close his doors permanently.

“If you’re 82 years of age, when are you going to go?” Frank says, switching his razor – affectionately nicknamed ‘baby’ – off.

“I have five minutes for lunch, and I’ve been up since 7:15.”

While he’s about to get a lot longer lunch break and maybe even a sleep-in, this shop has been a labour of love for Frank. It’s the area’s last link to its former life as a bustling fruit and vegetable market.

Most mornings, just after 7am, Frank strolls up Vardon Avenue to flip the ‘open’ sign and start cutting hair for the day. It’s a career Frank has been clipping away at for seven decades.

Born in Sicily in 1940, he took up barbering at the age of nine as a way to earn money after World War II.

The son of a shoemaker and a housewife, Frank dropped out of school at 10 to pursue a career with the clippers. He learned quickly “not to complain and not ask too many questions”.

“At 10 or 11 years old, I was shaving people’s face and cutting hair,” he says.

“They told me I couldn’t shave until I learned and the first person I shaved was my father, because they said if you cut a face, you cut your father’s face.”

The family came to to Australia in September 1957 as part of the post-war immigration drive, a move that would transform Australian society and culture in future years.

On 9 December of that same year, Frank started barbering on East Terrace when the area was home to the old East End Produce Market, which wrapped up in 1988.

He says there were no wine bars or apartments in sight – but there were four different banks along Rundle Street.

“There was a lot of traffic down here, and the thing is, you have to go where the traffic is,” he says.

“Everyone was friendly as well and everyone tried to help you.”

The father of two spent six years on East Terrace and 38 on Rundle Street before moving into his current spot 21 years ago. All up, he’s the area’s longest-serving tenant.

He’s seen many changes, but he does miss the old Royal Adelaide Hospital.

“There were doctors, nurses, visitors – everybody. Now, there are people in there, where the hospital was, in the space agency or whatever they call it,” he says.

“But you’ve always got to remember they are different people.”

The shop has – mostly – been a one-person operation. Frank says he’s had a “couple of helpers”, but “that wasn’t working out”.

Haircuts are still $20, and you can get a shave and a trim for $40. Frank says he never considered jacking up the price, even when cost of living pressures mounted.

“You’ve got to understand that everyone worries so much about inflation,” he says. “If you want to reduce inflation, don’t put prices up.”

Frank is often engrossed in a book or his iPad, reading up on world history between customers. He says part of being a barber is being well-read so you can have many different conversations with the customers.

Another important part is making sure you don’t repeat the same mistakes – something not everyone remembers.

“The past and the history is like the key to the present,” he says.

“That’s the problem we have nowadays, because whatever happened in the past – like the economy or inflation – it happened, and we have that knowledge.

“But in the 21st century, with all the education, we still make the same mistakes.”

Around the time of Frank’s 59th anniversary, he had a nearby laneway named after him, and a wall-length mural painted in his honour.

He’s quick to point out one bone of contention with the artwork – the scissors in his pocket are the wrong way around.

Frank’s landlord, the Maras Group, organised a party in honour of the anniversary back then.

When CityMag speaks to Theo Maras on Ebenezer Place, the property developer has a soft spot for the long-timer, saying they tried to talk him out of retirement.

However, when Frank turns the key on his barbershop for the last time on 9 December, he’ll instead be cutting hair in his home garage – strictly for those dedicated customers.

Frank and his long-time wife, Mary, a lady’s hairdresser, will alternate the days they work. While you’ll still be able to get a trim, he says many customers have been emotional about the end.

“Ninety-nine per cent of people say they are sad. It’s sad for me to go, but when you get to my age, you can’t be too choosy what you want to do,” he says.

“It’s been a journey.”