Collection Hair Studio

Most Recent Comments

• May 2020 by Fabiola Cardona
  I will be coming only to Bryan from now on! Loved my haircut, he really does know how to cut and treat curly hair!
• February 2019 by Aaron DeMayo
  Collection Hair Studio is fantastic. Bryan is an excellent stylist, he is patient and has great attention to detail. The location is great and he has a private space which I enjoy. Highly recommend!!!
• February 2019 by Shaan Patel
  Perfection.
• February 2019 by Jeffrey Lowman
  Alsome.
• January 2019 by Neil
  This place is a hidden gem. I have lived in the Gables for years, but never discovered the hidden beauty mall located underneath this condo building until just a few days ago.
• October 2017 by Bobby H.
  We all hate leaving our comfort zone. I know I do, especially when it comes to getting my hair cut by someone new. When I moved to Miami in 2015, I avoided the inevitable for as long as I could. I let my hair grow and grow. Dogs began growling at the sight of me. Women would grab the hands of their small children and briskly cross the street as soon as they saw me coming, never making eye contact. Finally, my friends and family had had enough. They demanded I trim my locks, lest they hold me down and shave my head whilst I slept. Begrudgingly, I began the tiresome process of internet research that no one enjoys. Comment after comment dried my eyes and made my head spin. How could one professional be so good and so bad at the same time? How could one establishment be the Garden of Eden on Tuesday but the Fourth Level of Hell on Thursday? I narrowed it down to two imperfect choices. After a coin flip, I settled on a place I Shall Not Name, where I received a haircut that I will only describe as "mushroom-like." Looking like a giant phallus, I could not take the ridicule of passing motorists as I drove home. Frustrated, I performed a well-executed handbrake turn, returned to the Place That Shall Not Be Shamed and demanded a repair cut. Let's just say that I went from looking like a giant phallus to a tiny phallus. Mortified, I sought out the services of Imperfect Choice #2. This may be the point where you expect me to meet up with Bryan and for him to save the day. Not so, my friend, not so. The gentleman at Imperfect Establishment #2, who was not Bryan, did a satisfactory job, but I wasn't wowed. Still, having been so severely traumatized already, I decided to stick with him instead of taking my chances on someone new. Well, after three haircuts, Average Joe disappeared! And of course, I was given no notice of this. No... I just walked into Establishment #2, ready for my scheduled haircut with Joe, and the receptionist informed me that someone else would be cutting my hair. At this point, I was still strong enough to hold back my fear pee. I turned around to meet my new hair-trimming professional and who did I see? The Resurrection of Christopher Columbus, apparently. Or, at least, a guy with his haircut. So much for holding back the fear pee... So, anyway, Chris C. promptly proceeded to cut all of my hair off as I soaked in my own urine. He was trying to make small talk, but all I could mumble was, "The Nina, the Pinta, the Santa Maria..." At this point, I didn't even care anymore. After the cut, I made a decision to embrace "mangy-chic" and declined a request to schedule a follow-up haircut. As I sprinted down the street in shame, bee-lining for my car, I thought, "Maybe the circus could be a thing that I try?" Well, a month later, I had some professional thing to attend and a haircut, unfortunately, became necessary. Like a beaten animal, I called Establishment #2, begging for more punishment. The receptionist on the other end of the line asked me who cut my hair last. I responded, "You know, the guy who looks like Christopher Columbus." There was a moment of confused silence on her end, so I continued, "He's a fifty-year-old dude with bangs..." She exclaimed, "OH! Bryan!" I arrived for the ritual massacre and I saw a guy waiting for me in the reception area. It was not Christopher Columbus. He was definitely not a fifty-year-old man with bangs and flat-ironed hair. At this point, bad haircut or not, I could not emotionally handle anymore disruptions to the structure of my life. I pointed at the new guy and yelled, "THAT'S NOT BRYAN! HE DOESN'T HAVE BANGS OR THREE WOODEN SHIPS!" After much scene-making, sobbing, screaming, soothing and comforting, the new guy and the receptionist assured me that the not-Christopher-Columbus-new-guy WAS indeed Bryan, that they weren't sure who the Christopher-Columbu- lookalike was anyway, a
• September 2017 by Robert Hajir
  We all hate leaving our comfort zone. I know I do, especially when it comes to getting my hair cut by someone new. When I moved to Miami in 2015, I avoided the inevitable for as long as I could. I let my hair grow and grow. Dogs began growling at the sight of me. Women would grab the hands of their small children and briskly cross the street as soon as they saw me coming, never making eye contact. Finally, my friends and family had had enough. They demanded I trim my locks, lest they hold me down and shave my head whilst I slept. Begrudgingly, I began the tiresome process of internet research that no one enjoys. Comment after comment dried my eyes and made my head spin. How could one professional be so good and so bad at the same time? How could one establishment be the Garden of Eden on Tuesday but the Fourth Level of Hell on Thursday? I narrowed it down to two imperfect choices. After a coin flip, I settled on a place I Shall Not Name, where I received a haircut that I will only describe as “mushroom-like.” Looking like a giant phallus, I could not take the ridicule of passing motorists as I drove home. Frustrated, I performed a well-executed handbrake turn, returned to the Place That Shall Not Be Shamed and demanded a repair cut. Let's just say that I went from looking like a giant phallus to a tiny phallus. Mortified, I sought out the services of Imperfect Choice #2. This may be the point where you expect me to meet up with Bryan and for him to save the day. Not so, my friend, not so. The gentleman at Imperfect Establishment #2, who was not Bryan, did a satisfactory job, but I wasn't wowed. Still, having been so severely traumatized already, I decided to stick with him instead of taking my chances again on someone new. Well, after three haircuts, Average Joe disappeared! And of course, I was given no notice of this. No… I just walked into Establishment #2, ready for my scheduled haircut with Joe, and the receptionist informed me that someone else would be cutting my hair. At this point, I was still strong enough to hold back my fear pee. I turned around to meet my new hair-trimming professional and who did I see? The Resurrection of Christopher Columbus apparently. Or, at least, a guy with his haircut. So much for holding back the fear pee… So, anyway, Chris C. promptly proceeds to cut all my hair off as I soak in my own urine. He is trying to make small talk, but all I can mumble is, “The Nina, the Pinta, the Santa Maria…” At this point, I don't even care anymore. After the cut, I make a decision to embrace mangy-chic and decline a request to schedule a follow-up haircut. As I sprint down the street in shame, beelining for my car, I think, “Maybe the circus can be a thing that I try?” Well, a month later, I had some professional thing to attend and a haircut became unfortunately necessary. Like a beaten animal, I called Establishment #2, begging for more punishment. The receptionist on the other end of the line asked me who cut my hair last. I responded, “You know, the guy who looks like Christopher Columbus!” There was a moment of confused silence on her end, so I continued, “He's a fifty-year-old dude with bangs…” She exclaimed, “OH! Bryan!” continued in a review below...
• September 2017 by Robert Hajir
  Part Two I arrived for my massacre and I saw a guy waiting for me in the reception area. It was not Christopher Columbus. He was definitely not a fifty-year-old man with bangs and flat-ironed hair. At this point, bad haircut or not, I could not emotionally handle anymore disruptions to the structure of my life. I pointed at the new guy and yelled, “THAT'S NOT BRYAN! HE DOESN'T HAVE BANGS OR THREE WOODEN SHIPS!” After much scene-making, sobbing, screaming, soothing and comforting, the new guy and the receptionist assured me that the not-Chris-new-guy WAS indeed Bryan, that they weren't sure who the Christopher Columbus' lookalike was anyway, and that my new haircut was going to be fantastic. So, I took the plunge, ready for the worst. Bryan did a great job. At first, I couldn't believe it. I was still shell-shocked and having a hard time overcoming my PTSD. But I kept returning to Bryan, each time with a little more life in my eyes, and soon it became a routine. One memorable time, right before a major job interview, I became obsessed with a nonexistent flaw I thought I saw in my hair. I blew up Bryan's phone, and he dutifully fit me in, afterhours mind you, just to placate my neurosis. And it was indeed neurosis. But Bryan did it anyway and he did it kindly. Looking back, I don't even think his scissors ever touched my hair. I think he just mimed cutting “the flaw” to get me to stop freaking out. Snip, snip, “Yea, you're good to go homie.” Since then, I have followed Bryan. Not like a stalker, but when he changed locations from Craptastic Establishment #2 to his current, standalone location. To this day, I continue to drink all of his sodas and talk his ear off incessantly. I make demands that he stock his fridge with the redneck champagne of the South (Diet Dr. Pepper) and he does. I routinely show up unannounced about once a week for “shape ups,” which Bryan refuses to charge me for. While I know I annoy the living hell out of him, Bryan has, for years, consistently given me excellent haircuts. He makes me look like a cross between a Greek god and a sexy lumberjack. As an added bonus, the atmosphere at his place is always fun, with great music, refreshments and lively banter. So, even though the journey was tough, I am eternally grateful to have discovered Bryan. Not only does Bryan give in to every one of my gratuitous demands, he is also a genuine and dear friend to me now. I hope that no one reading this review decides to hire Bryan for his services, because I am sick and tired of sharing him. Just because he is the best in Miami doesn't mean you deserve him! Please, allow me to recommend Establishment Number Two or even The Place That Shall Not Be Named instead.