THE SCUMBAGS OF SCHOREM
In the mouth of South Holland you’ll find the nine-chair cult barbershop, Schorem — The Holy Ashtray. Schorem was born not as a human, but as beast, created from straight razors, hair snips, witch hazel, Satan’s drink-of-choice and a drug-fueled expedition to open a safe haven for the wicked and weary.
With a bright red, 15-inch-long mohawk, torn clothes, $2 in his pocket, and the stench of an old, stray dog, 17-year-old Bertus “Rob” Rietveld walked into a Rotterdam barbershop. There, he met Lion “Leen” Bergmann, and asked for a cup of coffee and a job. The iconic Schorem barbers admit that it only took five minutes
