Walk into Kennaland on any given afternoon and you will feel less like a customer sliding into a salon chair and more like a guest stepping into a bustling atelier. Soft vinyl plays on the old speakers, someone is sketching concepts for a photo shoot in the corner, and the aroma of fresh-ground coffee mingles with the faint scent of hair products.
At the center of it all stands Kenna Kennor, the Scottish-born stylist who also happens to be actress Britt Lower’s husband. Over the past decade, he has quietly transformed his Brooklyn studio into a warm, ever-evolving community hub where hair is only the starting point for artistic collaboration.
A Salon Born From Curiosity and Courage
When Kennor first opened Kennaland in a modest Greenpoint loft, success was hardly guaranteed; boutique salons in New York City come and go with alarming speed. Yet his curiosity about people and materials pushed him to treat each appointment as a creative study, not a transaction. He asked clients about the music that shaped their teenage years, the books piled on their nightstands, the cities they dreamed of visiting.
Then he translated those personal details into cuts that felt lived-in from day one—curls with gentle movement, fringes that skimmed freckles just so. Word spread, and within months the space became a revolving door for editors, musicians, and indie filmmakers who craved styles that looked like them rather than the latest algorithm-approved trend.
Curating a Safe Haven for Creative Experimentation
Kennor understood early on that a genuine artistic community thrives on psychological safety, so he enforced one simple rule inside Kennaland: no creative idea is too strange to try, as long as it respects the wearer’s story. That ethos attracted makeup artists who wanted to test neon pigments, photographers eager to experiment with Polaroid film, and sculptors seeking human hair as an unconventional medium.
Some evenings, the styling stations were pushed against the wall to make room for pop-up gallery shows or readings of screenplays still in draft form. The result is a salon where laughter spills as freely as conversation, and where a single afternoon might involve a bleach-and-tone session happening beside a spontaneous critique of someone’s short film.
Mentoring the Next Generation of Visionaries
Although Kennor’s own calendar is booked months ahead, he reserves blocks of time each week to coach junior stylists and visiting apprentices. Rather than drilling them on speed, he disciplines them in patience: the patience to listen for subtext when a client says, “Do whatever you think,” and the patience to respect hair’s natural density instead of forcing it to behave.
He shares stories of missteps—like the time he over-texturized a fringe and spent an hour recalibrating the shape—to normalize the idea that learning can be messy. Many former protégés now lead their own studios in cities from Austin to Antwerp, often crediting Kennor for teaching them that humility and humor travel further than ego in a crowded industry.
Partnering With Britt Lower to Blend Art and Life
Home life and studio life blur, in the best possible way, thanks to Kennor’s partnership with Britt Lower. She will sometimes duck into Kennaland between shoots, bringing a quick surge of Hollywood bustle to the otherwise low-key room. He returns the favor by lending on-set hair direction or by quietly supporting her projects—his name even appears in the production acknowledgments on Circus Person, a tiny footnote that hints at how deeply their creative worlds intertwine.
Friends say their shared values of authenticity and kindness shape the salon’s culture: no gossip about celebrity clients, no snobbery about drugstore styling creams, only genuine praise when someone nails a new technique.
Giving Back While Looking Ahead
Kennor could have spent every spare moment expanding his brand or locking down product deals, yet he consistently channels energy into community outreach. He hosts monthly pay-what-you-can days for local residents, partners with nearby schools to provide free trims before graduation photos, and donates portions of retail sales to arts programs that keep after-school theater clubs afloat.
At industry panels, he speaks less about revenue and more about why salons should serve as micro-sanctuaries where self-expression is protected. Looking ahead, he dreams of turning the Kennaland mezzanine into a residency loft where visiting artists can live, work, and trade ideas over breakfast. In Kennor’s mind, hairdressing remains the passport that lets him assemble diverse talents under one modest roof, proving that a single pair of shears can still carve out space for an entire creative village.
