Have you ever dreamed of being devastatingly handsome but dismissed it as a childish fantasy? Me neither—because I’m a man, and I heroically pretend not to care what other people think. That said… other people do care. And those people need leadership. They won’t follow a disheveled bridge troll into the future, so occasionally one must look the part. Enter Christal—part hairstylist, part sorceress, part morale officer for the human race. I’ve had plenty of meaningful, hour-long relationships in my life (don’t ask), but none were as transformative as my time in Christal’s chair. When it was over, I felt reborn. Hydrated. Possibly knighted. We both looked like we could’ve used a drink and a cigarette—and I don’t even smoke. It began, as these things do, with light, professional banter: “Have you always been this handsome?” “Do you lift the entire gym?” “Why do you smell like confidence and mild danger?” “Roughly what percentage of the population is legally yours?” As the session progressed, it became clear this haircut came with responsibility. The look she gave me said, Go. Lead them. Frankly, I didn’t ask for this burden, but destiny rarely sends a calendar invite. Now, being ogled is nothing new for me—but it was refreshing for the oglers to be women this time. Divine timing had me booked early on a Saturday, because had I walked out during peak traffic hours, the resulting accidents would’ve required federal oversight. Drivers simply wouldn’t have stood a chance. In short: Christal doesn’t just cut hair. She alters timelines. If you want a haircut that upgrades your confidence, your posture, and possibly your tax bracket—book immediately. Five stars. Would risk public distraction again. Excuse me, I must now attend to planning several dates nights that got put on my calendar during my short walk home.