Are you over the age of 96? Do you need a perm? Better yet, do you still refer to it as a "permanent"? Maybe you just love the smell of abject failure mixed with the faint scent of stale cigarette smoke? Well, if you answered "yes" to any of those questions then this is the place for you! I took my son for a haircut and he, somehow, came out with longer and messier hair! I ushered him, and the "stylist" (though I use that term VERY loosely), back to the chair and tried to give some direction on how to improve the cut but as I watched the slovenly and apathetic woman use the same cutting motion at each new clump of hair she yanked up I realized that the most formal training she'd had was likely watching a how-to-cut-hair video she'd located on youtube after placing multiple tabs of pcp against her gums. When I noticed that she had neither a magic wand nor a time-turning device among her selection of rusty utensils I said, "ok, uh, I guess that's it" and nudged my son to the exit. The woman slur-grunted in my direction, "Is your daughter ready?" In my confusion and horror I'd almost forgotten that I'd made an appointment for my younger child. She'd been happily flipping through the hairstyle books from the days when bronzer was only made better with feathered bangs (this should have been my first clue). My daughter looked up at me, confused, as I lied to the woman with the sagging skinny jeans and the haphazardly piled hair, "No, I just realized that we're late for something". I paid (including the tip, because I'm not a jerk) and scooted the kids out of the store as a woman who wreaked of whiskey shuffled past us, the sound of her smoker's cough echoing behind us as we sought out the familiar processed air of the attached 21st Century mall.