100% Human Hair

Over the past week I spent some time in NYC. Apart from contracting the worst food poisoning of my life—and, thereby, conquering my fear of death—I had a lovely visit.

Among our other adventures in the Empire State City,¹ Mr. Cooney and I encountered the above-pictured sign. I don’t understand anything about (1) the sign itself, (2) the store it advertises, (3) the street it lives on, or (4) the kind of society that would enable its creation or tolerate its existence. I am helpless before it. Make of it what you will.

(Yeah, I know, it’s probably just a wig shop)

I don’t know whether natives call it that. I would, if I were. ↩

You might like these textually similar articles:

Re-thinking History
Transcript of Nall’s Continuations
Beowulf in Old English
Disrupting Urination Norms
Goddammit