3006 Freight Street, home of Euro Style Hair Salon, is not the most fashionable of addresses. Indeed, examining the building, a laconic eye would probably conclude the "euro style" referred to is Poland circa 1945.
The establishment's awning, formerly bright red with white lettering, has faded and weathered into a sort of grimy puce. Its brickwork, a functional arrangement of grey blocks, is defaced by unreadable, monochromatic graffiti. I am always surprised to see an "open" sign on the front door when "condemned" would be more appropriate. The lighting inside is fluorescent green. There is a concrete ashtray beside the entrance that has not been emptied for quite some time.
Who gets their hair cut at Euro Style Hair Salon? I've never seen any customers sitting in the swivel chair while flicking through a dog-eared Vogue magazine. The ramshackle residents of Freight Street look as though they wash their hair once a month at most, lathering up with dish detergent followed by a quick rinse under a lukewarm faucet. There are no elaborate perms or trendy color highlights here.
Nevertheless, glossy advertisements for such haute couture coiffures stare out from the smudgy windows of Euro Style Hair Salon; headshots of glamorous models more suited to the nightclubs of New York and London than the dereliction of 3006 Freight Street. The owner might just as well promote pictures of Carmen Miranda and the Bride of Frankenstein for all the good it'll do his business.
Euro Style Hair Salon does pedicures, too, apparently. Those must happen in the back room with a view of all the abandoned shopping carts and smashed bottles littering the ground beneath the Eastbound overpass. Imagine getting your toenails painted scarlet while staring at all that broken glass and rusting metal. But then I doubt anyone does.
