I was roaming the diversified streets of Williamsburg, Brooklyn as I waited for some friends to arrive. I decided to kill some time by stepping into the unknown abyss that is The Gibson. It was a slow Thursday night as I walked into this dimly lit establishment with two projectors

Dear Hair: Let’s be clear here: you are not THE Hair of Williamsburg. It’s almost worse this way, because I do not have a legion of similarly mystified people to commiserate with about any trauma a sighting may have induced. Oh no, you are my own personal horror story. The