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Supercuts
Rating Details »
- Price Range:
-
$
- Accepts Credit Cards:
- Yes
- Parking:
- Private Lot
- Wheelchair Accessible:
- Yes
- By Appointment Only:
- No
7 reviews for Supercuts
For a chick who used to pay over $200 every 4-6 weeks to have her hair cut, colored, shellacked, and all together metamorphosized - it was not an easy decision to walk into Supercuts.
Personal changes in my financial soundess (AKA I'm nearly flat broke ) dictated that it was Supercuts or nada.
They were very busy but I was seen in 10 minutes. The guy who cut my hair was quick but not at all sloppy. As he was cutting my hair, he kept asking me if the length was okay or if I wanted to go shorter. I can tell you - the girl I was paying over $200 a month to never asked me that, not once.
I couldn't be happier. Well, that's not true. If I wasn't almost flat broke I'd probably be a little happier.
I can't believe I paid $23 (INCLUDING TIP!) for such a great haircut!
No place is more recession-friendly than Supercuts, where you can still get a haircut for under fifteen bucks. I've been to this location numerous times, with a different stylist every time, and I've never been disappointed. Granted, I have straight hair, but if you don't need anything fancy but haven't trusted yourself with scissors since that time in high school when you cut your bangs at a diagonal and had to wear handbands all month, this is the place to go.
Bonus: if you're a AAA member, you get ten percent off, which basically equals a free shampoo.
As someone who is very poor, and normally cuts my own hair, I am always pleased with how they cut my hair. I went in recently to get my u-bangs fixed after my friends butchered them. Not only did the girl know what u-bangs were, but also taught me the correct way to trim them! I always get a walk-in appointment, and am always satisfied. I don't see why people would ever pay over $50 on a hair cut.
Good point Donald, who does. Well I did, and I wish I could take it back. I let two of my friends whack at my head with kids scissors and a nose trimmer after getting loaded on booze and punching each other in the face and my hair STILL came out better.
No offense to the employees at this particular SC's, most are very friendly. But to the one that talked to herself more than she did me and smelled like Poison, TAKE THE GUM OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!
One star for cleavage.
Back in April/May, I had the worst haircut experience ever...worse than all the forgettable years of getting my hair cut by my mom. In defense of the store and its other "stylists" it was one particular woman that almost caused me a heart attack and cut my pursuit of a "FREE SUPERCUT" relatively short. (The Free Supercut is in reference to their "Get 12 Haircuts and the 13th is Free" promo)
In my previous two trips, I asked for a fohawk, and both times, it turned out well. The third time was NOT a charm...this lady MUST have been new. She was slow in her movements (I sat in that chair for over an hour). Here's the dealbreaker...she didn't know how to cut a fohawk! Instead of leaving the top long and sides shorter, she did it the opposite way, creating a valley-like look on the top of my head. I swear, it just dipped at the top! Amazing... I was biting my lip the entire time, couldn't even utter a word. I went home and shaved my head...
I hope that particular stylist got her act straight and learned the right way to cut a fohawk.
Miserable waste of an afternoon. I walk in, wait for the counter person, she idly walks up and says, without preface, "Name?"
"Tim"
"Cut?"
"Yes."
"Ok, it'll be an hour and twenty minutes."
"I'll be back in an hour and twenty minutes."
I go shopping next door at the grocery store, and grab a Jamba Juice at the corner. I go home, unpack the groceries, watch a little TV while keeping my eye on the clock... then return to the establishment at exactly one hour and twenty minutes since I left.
"Hi, I'm Tim. You told me an hour and twenty minutes, so here I am."
"Ok, have a seat, we'll be right with you."
Forty minutes go by and I get up to the counter and before I speak she tells me that I'm next in line. I tell her that an hour twenty has become two hours.
Eight people go ahead of me in the time since I arrived. When the ninth is called, i get up out of my seat, take the ticket with my name on it, tear it up (to the mild protestations of the incompetent behind the counter) and walk out the door.
I'll never return.
Who goes to supercuts?
