Born & raised Salt Lake, Honolulu, Hawaii.

Much of my childhood, was raised at my grandmothers apartment, where she played a significant role in shaping who I am today. With my parents working long hours, my grandma became my second mom, always there to watch over me. Living with her granted me a sense of freedom and plenty of spare time.

At the age of 14, I stumbled upon a pair of clippers and began giving haircuts by the pool downstairs in her apartment complex. What began as a few cuts for my friends quickly turned into a popular spot for many kids in the neighborhood and from my high school.

I was quite the knucklehead kid back then. Instead of cleaning up the hair after my cuts, I would carelessly kick it into the pool, creating quite the mess. This behavior understandably upset many of the neighbors, and one day, I was caught in the act by the apartment manager. She was furious and threatened to fine my grandma for the chaos I had created.

However, my grandma, being the kind-hearted soul she was, had love from everyone in the building. As a result, instead of a fine, the manager banned me from the pool “for life”.

At that point, I had already built somewhat of a clientele, and I needed somewhere to keep cutting hair. Back then, cordless clippers didn’t exist, everything needed to be plugged in. The closest place with power was my grandma’s apartment upstairs. I approached her, asking if I could set up shop inside her home. Initially, she said NO, but after I persistently begged, her love for me won out, and she agreed.

She allowed me to cut hair in the guest bathroom. 

To get to her apartment, we had to take the elevator. My grandma lived on the top floor of an eight-story condo, and the elevator was outdated & grimy. Instead of the usual numbering system from 1 to 8, it counted from 1 to 7, with the 8th floor labeled as “PH” for “Penthouse.” That’s where the name was born, although the eighth-floor unit in Salt Lake, was anything but extravagant.

Fast forward to 2019, my grandmother was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. Before she passed away, I made her a promise in that hospital room. I vowed to carry on her legacy and share how much she meant to me. I told her that if I ever opened my own shop, I would name it after her—not her actual name, but in honor of where it all began:

Her home, her house, also known as PENTHOUSE. 

- JOHNNY PENTHOUSE