Back when I flaunted that thick, studly, disco mane in the late 70's, I didn't mind going to a 'beauty salon' for a shampoo, razor cut, and a blow dryer and brush. I was eye candy for the ladies. 30 years or so later, however, what's left can be combed with a damp washcloth. :p
Today I prefer walk-in, 5 minutes in the chair and gone. The gal who cuts my hair now bought out my old barber. The problem is that she's only open when she feels like it and the hours posted on her door must be there for laughs.
When you wish upon a falling star, your dreams can come true. Unless it's really a meteorite hurtling to the Earth which will destroy all life. Then you're pretty much hosed no matter what you wish for. Unless it's death by meteor.