Sydney’s leading laser hair removal experts, Nad’s Laser Clinics are not in favour with the growing trend of backyard laser hair removal operations.
As recently investigated by Choice, a lack of training and use of incorrect laser technology has resulted in Australians suffering painful and often irreversible injuries.
Founder of Nad’s Laser Clinic, Sue Ismiel, believes that the increase of pop up laser clinics and their ability to cut prices, is to blame for many Australians fear of the industry.
“Laser hair removal involves the use of highly powered laser technology and equipment,” Sue says.
“To think that people are setting up shop in their homes, and at salons without thorough and intensive training is baffling.”
“At Nad’s Laser Clinics, we have a dedicated employee for therapist training to ensure our stringent policies and procedures are followed and treatments are performed at the highest possible standards on an on-going basis.”
Nad’s Laser Clinics are the only laser hair removal specialists in the industry. Nad’s is a trusted brand with over 20 years of experience in hair removal.
“Laser machines are complex and highly technical, and use of the machine varies based on customer skin type, hair type and medical history. With an unprofessional setup it is easier to undercut professional operating clinics’ prices, because money isn’t being spent on machine maintenance, service or training and hiring of professional staff. However the results of their treatments impact us all, often turning people away from the entire industry. Without a high level of on-going training customers and professionals are at risk!”
While Western Australia, Queensland and Tasmania are the only states to regulate the use of laser hair removal treatment, the rules are lax.
As a result of no or limited regulations, Sue urges any customer interested in laser hair removal to do their research beforehand.
“Customers must ask themselves whether saving money is worth risking the safety of their skin”.
Nad’s Laser Clinics, which operate in six suburbs across Sydney, have clients who travel from all states for their hair removal treatment.
Alison who travels from Jindabyne says:
“I have had several bad experiences with so-called laser ‘specialists’, and know of many "backyard" operators. Laser became a treatment that is available everywhere, so it can be confusing to know who to trust with your skin. I did my research, and because it isn't a treatment I need to do so regularly, I travel to Sydney and visit a laser specialist I trust”.
2013年8月6日 星期二
2013年6月27日 星期四
Student Business Spotlight
Al, a Centerville native, spent 20 years in the Navy before
sustaining a combat-related injury that forced him into early
retirement. Shortly after, Christy became disabled in a car accident
and could no longer work either
"I had a really bad fall and went through 53 surgeries," Kroell said. "When I retired, my wife also got badly injured in a near-fatal car accident and became disabled as well."
The Kroells had no choice but to move out of their home on base near San Diego. They packed up and moved to Squaw Valley – close enough to Al's hometown, but far enough from city living that they could focus on rest and recuperation.
As the credit card bills stacked up, Christy and Al found solace in something that brought them joy: making custom laser engraved plaques for military service members. Al said he started making plaques over 30 years ago when he was in the military as a way to honor service men and women departing military bases. He used an engraving machine to produce custom plaques from wood, metal and glass.
It didn't occur to the Kroells that they could make a living doing it, until they caught wind of Reedley College's entrepreneurship program two years ago. They each took a few business classes, and Al joined the Students in Free Enterprise (SIFE) Club. He was inspired.
Once they decided to go full-force into the engraving business, Al took classes all over the educational spectrum. He learned to operate heavy machinery in manufacturing class, design computer graphics in art class, and master public speaking in communication class. He said the biggest skill he learned was how to give an effective "elevator pitch," or pitching his business to a potential investor in under a minute.
"They don't teach you that in the military," Al Kroell said. "Everything that we've done here at the college has helped us to get this business off the ground. It's all been trial and error and a lot of hard work, but I know we wouldn't be where we are today without it."
Where they are today is a pretty good spot. Nine months ago, the Kroells officially started ChristyAl Engraving. They wrote a compelling business plan that nabbed them a $100,000 loan from a small business investing company, and purchased a highly accurate computerized laser engraving machine.
They now make signs from marble, glass, wood, metal, ceramics and just about anything imaginable, as small as a dime to as large as 4 by 8 feet. Their first love is still military plaques, but the Kroells have also branched out into commercial business signs, memorial plaques, and wood cut-outs.
Their joy in creating custom work is apparent. Even the back of Al's iPad is etched with their company's logo. He said he once etched his fingernails, just to see if the machine was capable of doing it. (It was.)
As they've built up a solid portfolio and clientele, Christy and Al recently got some more good news. They received a grant from the Sam's Club Giving Program to attend a lecture in Dallas, Texas earlier this spring, where they listened to nationally recognized speakers in the world of small business. Click on their website careel-tech for more information.
"I had a really bad fall and went through 53 surgeries," Kroell said. "When I retired, my wife also got badly injured in a near-fatal car accident and became disabled as well."
The Kroells had no choice but to move out of their home on base near San Diego. They packed up and moved to Squaw Valley – close enough to Al's hometown, but far enough from city living that they could focus on rest and recuperation.
As the credit card bills stacked up, Christy and Al found solace in something that brought them joy: making custom laser engraved plaques for military service members. Al said he started making plaques over 30 years ago when he was in the military as a way to honor service men and women departing military bases. He used an engraving machine to produce custom plaques from wood, metal and glass.
It didn't occur to the Kroells that they could make a living doing it, until they caught wind of Reedley College's entrepreneurship program two years ago. They each took a few business classes, and Al joined the Students in Free Enterprise (SIFE) Club. He was inspired.
Once they decided to go full-force into the engraving business, Al took classes all over the educational spectrum. He learned to operate heavy machinery in manufacturing class, design computer graphics in art class, and master public speaking in communication class. He said the biggest skill he learned was how to give an effective "elevator pitch," or pitching his business to a potential investor in under a minute.
"They don't teach you that in the military," Al Kroell said. "Everything that we've done here at the college has helped us to get this business off the ground. It's all been trial and error and a lot of hard work, but I know we wouldn't be where we are today without it."
Where they are today is a pretty good spot. Nine months ago, the Kroells officially started ChristyAl Engraving. They wrote a compelling business plan that nabbed them a $100,000 loan from a small business investing company, and purchased a highly accurate computerized laser engraving machine.
They now make signs from marble, glass, wood, metal, ceramics and just about anything imaginable, as small as a dime to as large as 4 by 8 feet. Their first love is still military plaques, but the Kroells have also branched out into commercial business signs, memorial plaques, and wood cut-outs.
Their joy in creating custom work is apparent. Even the back of Al's iPad is etched with their company's logo. He said he once etched his fingernails, just to see if the machine was capable of doing it. (It was.)
As they've built up a solid portfolio and clientele, Christy and Al recently got some more good news. They received a grant from the Sam's Club Giving Program to attend a lecture in Dallas, Texas earlier this spring, where they listened to nationally recognized speakers in the world of small business. Click on their website careel-tech for more information.
2013年5月20日 星期一
Homeowners think small
Tiny houses fall into two categories. Some, like Cantori's, are technically travel trailers - tagged and road-ready. Others have foundations and aren't going anywhere.
The houses usually manage a lot of function in a little bit of space - kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, laundry room - and they're often cute to boot. Gables. Wood siding. Even porches.
"These are beautiful works of art," said Joe Coover with Tumbleweed Tiny House Co., a California firm that sells tiny homes - as small as 65 square feet - and tiny-home designs.
U.S. houses got bigger for decades, ballooning from a little less than 1,700 square feet in the early 1970s to 2,500 square feet last year, even as household sizes shrunk, according to Census Bureau figures. But the housing crash, foreclosure crisis and rough recession have pressed some to think differently about how much space they need. And a house you can move with you has a certain appeal to anyone stuck in a place worth less than its mortgage.
But whether you can actually live in a tiny home depends on more than your ability to pare down your possessions. Location matters. Zoning, building codes, health codes and even private covenants in subdivisions can effectively render a tiny house illegal.
In the eyes of the law, there's such a thing as too small. Some jurisdictions bar people from living in travel trailers, too, no matter what they look like.
"That's the No. 1 issue - zoning," said Steven Harrell, owner of Tiny House Listings , where 20,000 to 50,000 people visit per day to check out tiny houses for sale. "There are a lot of people advocating, 'Hey, what's the big deal? Why don't you ease square-foot (regulations)?' Times have changed, the economy has changed, people are having to make choices. And tiny houses are one of them."
Tiny houses aren't the only example of small living. "Micro-apartments" of a few hundred square feet are popping up in some expensive cities, such as San Francisco, for young professionals who'd rather spend their free time downtown than in a sprawling living room.
Matt Hoffman, vice president of innovation at Enterprise Community Partners, the Columbia, Md., affordable-housing giant, said small dwellings aren't a solution for everyone. But they're a useful choice to have. More than 10 million people in America are "housing burdened," paying over half their income on rent, he said.
Cantori has spent his life in modestly sized places. At 19, he bought a dilapidated sailboat, fixed it up and lived there for nearly five years - all 180 square feet of it. His next move was to a studio apartment in Baltimore. Living cheaply has allowed him to pursue the nonprofit career he wanted, save money and go sailing on the side.
His tiny home was built by a lawyer from Kansas who intended to live there with his family of three. Then the family grew by one. So he sold to Cantori, who flew west with his brother two years ago, rented a U-Haul and drove back to Maryland with his new home hitched to the back.
For Cantori, the affordability of a tiny house is part of the draw, but also the ability to use less energy, take up less land and generally be "lighter on the environment." A 6,000-square-foot house not far from his neighborhood baffles him.
His future retirement home is robin-egg blue, with a porch out front. Inside, there's a tiny stainless-steel fireplace, a closet and a combination washer-dryer. A table in the living room/dining area seats two, or up to five if folded out. The kitchen has an RV stove, microwave and small refrigerator. In the bathroom is a full-sized shower and a composting toilet. And up top, two lofts - each a bedroom.
The houses usually manage a lot of function in a little bit of space - kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, laundry room - and they're often cute to boot. Gables. Wood siding. Even porches.
"These are beautiful works of art," said Joe Coover with Tumbleweed Tiny House Co., a California firm that sells tiny homes - as small as 65 square feet - and tiny-home designs.
U.S. houses got bigger for decades, ballooning from a little less than 1,700 square feet in the early 1970s to 2,500 square feet last year, even as household sizes shrunk, according to Census Bureau figures. But the housing crash, foreclosure crisis and rough recession have pressed some to think differently about how much space they need. And a house you can move with you has a certain appeal to anyone stuck in a place worth less than its mortgage.
But whether you can actually live in a tiny home depends on more than your ability to pare down your possessions. Location matters. Zoning, building codes, health codes and even private covenants in subdivisions can effectively render a tiny house illegal.
In the eyes of the law, there's such a thing as too small. Some jurisdictions bar people from living in travel trailers, too, no matter what they look like.
"That's the No. 1 issue - zoning," said Steven Harrell, owner of Tiny House Listings , where 20,000 to 50,000 people visit per day to check out tiny houses for sale. "There are a lot of people advocating, 'Hey, what's the big deal? Why don't you ease square-foot (regulations)?' Times have changed, the economy has changed, people are having to make choices. And tiny houses are one of them."
Tiny houses aren't the only example of small living. "Micro-apartments" of a few hundred square feet are popping up in some expensive cities, such as San Francisco, for young professionals who'd rather spend their free time downtown than in a sprawling living room.
Matt Hoffman, vice president of innovation at Enterprise Community Partners, the Columbia, Md., affordable-housing giant, said small dwellings aren't a solution for everyone. But they're a useful choice to have. More than 10 million people in America are "housing burdened," paying over half their income on rent, he said.
Cantori has spent his life in modestly sized places. At 19, he bought a dilapidated sailboat, fixed it up and lived there for nearly five years - all 180 square feet of it. His next move was to a studio apartment in Baltimore. Living cheaply has allowed him to pursue the nonprofit career he wanted, save money and go sailing on the side.
His tiny home was built by a lawyer from Kansas who intended to live there with his family of three. Then the family grew by one. So he sold to Cantori, who flew west with his brother two years ago, rented a U-Haul and drove back to Maryland with his new home hitched to the back.
For Cantori, the affordability of a tiny house is part of the draw, but also the ability to use less energy, take up less land and generally be "lighter on the environment." A 6,000-square-foot house not far from his neighborhood baffles him.
His future retirement home is robin-egg blue, with a porch out front. Inside, there's a tiny stainless-steel fireplace, a closet and a combination washer-dryer. A table in the living room/dining area seats two, or up to five if folded out. The kitchen has an RV stove, microwave and small refrigerator. In the bathroom is a full-sized shower and a composting toilet. And up top, two lofts - each a bedroom.
2013年3月6日 星期三
Celebrating sci-fi cinema's memorable robot butlers
It's telling that the word 'robot' - coined by Josef Capek and first appearing in print in his brother Karel's play Rossum's Universal Robots in 1920 - is derived from the Czech word for 'labour'. Stories of artificial people and automata have appeared in stories for centuries, and it's often the case that these inhuman constructs are given tasks that their human masters wouldn't want to do themselves. From the factory-produced workers of Capek's RUR mentioned above to the eerily blank David in Prometheus, the notion of the robotic servant is a familiar one in science fiction.
It's a theme touched on in this year's Robot & Frank, a moving sci-fi drama about an old man's growing friendship with his artificial carer. Although the titular retired thief Frank (played by Frank Langella) is initially suspicious of the thing, its prowess as a robber's assistant convinces the old man to attempt one last jewellery heist. With this film in mind, here's a look at a few of cinema's other butlers and servants - some of them far more helpful to their masters than others...
The archetypal movie robot, Robby was the most expensive aspect of MGM's lavish Forbidden Planet; the creation of Arnold Gillespie, Mentor Huebner and Robert Kinoshita, the lovably cumbersome mecha cost a then-pricey $125,000 to build. The effort was worth it - not only was Robby the focus of the film's beautifully-designed poster (nominal leading man Leslie Nielsen being conspicuous by his absence), but he also enjoyed a considerable film career after Forbidden Planet. Appearances in TV shows and his own film followed, and Joe Dante even managed to find a cameo for him in 1984's Gremlins.
As Walter Pidgeon's Dr Morbius so carefully explains, Robby is not only a great cook, but can even use his complicated internal systems to synthesise food from scratch. Raw materials are shoved into a slot in his belly, where they're analysed and replicated by a tiny internal laboratory. This particular function is later exploited by a boozy ship's cook, who has Robby rustle up 60 gallons of synthesised bourbon. Clearly, this doesn't conflict with Robby's compliance to the Three Laws or Robotics...
For our money, the cutest robots in American cinema, these diminutive machines are one of Silent Running's highlights - alongside Bruce Dern, who stars as a mildly unhinged space hippy determined to save the last remnants of Earth's plantlife at any cost. With Dern's character drifting alone through space with his domed greenhouses, Huey, Dewey and Louie become his friends, as they play cards and tend their enclosed gardens together.
Although they're ungainly and don't even have the power of speech, the robots are utterly beguiling - and the moment where one of them is suddenly destroyed is enough to make even the most stoic grown adult weep.
Spurred on by Inventables' "Desktop Factory Competition," which seeks to "drive down the cost of filament by creating a new filament extruder" the octogenarian designed a machine that turn plastics pellets into printer ready filament.
After his initial entry into the competition was disqualified because it exceeded the $250 price limit, Lyman recreated his machine. "It's my first machine with a few little parts changed," Lyman said, "I resubmitted it, and it worked. It worked great."
As a reward, Lyman received $40,000, a laser cutter, 3D printer and CNC machine. What are his plans for his cash prize? According to Lyman, "I'm going to give half of it to the wife, and tinker with the other half."
It's a theme touched on in this year's Robot & Frank, a moving sci-fi drama about an old man's growing friendship with his artificial carer. Although the titular retired thief Frank (played by Frank Langella) is initially suspicious of the thing, its prowess as a robber's assistant convinces the old man to attempt one last jewellery heist. With this film in mind, here's a look at a few of cinema's other butlers and servants - some of them far more helpful to their masters than others...
The archetypal movie robot, Robby was the most expensive aspect of MGM's lavish Forbidden Planet; the creation of Arnold Gillespie, Mentor Huebner and Robert Kinoshita, the lovably cumbersome mecha cost a then-pricey $125,000 to build. The effort was worth it - not only was Robby the focus of the film's beautifully-designed poster (nominal leading man Leslie Nielsen being conspicuous by his absence), but he also enjoyed a considerable film career after Forbidden Planet. Appearances in TV shows and his own film followed, and Joe Dante even managed to find a cameo for him in 1984's Gremlins.
As Walter Pidgeon's Dr Morbius so carefully explains, Robby is not only a great cook, but can even use his complicated internal systems to synthesise food from scratch. Raw materials are shoved into a slot in his belly, where they're analysed and replicated by a tiny internal laboratory. This particular function is later exploited by a boozy ship's cook, who has Robby rustle up 60 gallons of synthesised bourbon. Clearly, this doesn't conflict with Robby's compliance to the Three Laws or Robotics...
For our money, the cutest robots in American cinema, these diminutive machines are one of Silent Running's highlights - alongside Bruce Dern, who stars as a mildly unhinged space hippy determined to save the last remnants of Earth's plantlife at any cost. With Dern's character drifting alone through space with his domed greenhouses, Huey, Dewey and Louie become his friends, as they play cards and tend their enclosed gardens together.
Although they're ungainly and don't even have the power of speech, the robots are utterly beguiling - and the moment where one of them is suddenly destroyed is enough to make even the most stoic grown adult weep.
Spurred on by Inventables' "Desktop Factory Competition," which seeks to "drive down the cost of filament by creating a new filament extruder" the octogenarian designed a machine that turn plastics pellets into printer ready filament.
After his initial entry into the competition was disqualified because it exceeded the $250 price limit, Lyman recreated his machine. "It's my first machine with a few little parts changed," Lyman said, "I resubmitted it, and it worked. It worked great."
As a reward, Lyman received $40,000, a laser cutter, 3D printer and CNC machine. What are his plans for his cash prize? According to Lyman, "I'm going to give half of it to the wife, and tinker with the other half."
2012年11月18日 星期日
Keep your shoulder to the wheel and keep on trucking
'We definitely have to fight harder than ever. There's a greater emphasis on quality and people are rightfully looking for value for money.'
According to former American baseball player, Sam Ewing: "Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at all."
Fred Clarke is one man who has never been afraid to roll up his sleeves. His is an inspiring story that demonstrates what can be achieved through hard work, resilience and an enterprising mindset. This week I travelled to Bailieborough, in Co Cavan, to meet Fred and to learn about Agrigear, the company he set up 32 years ago.
Agrigear is one of the largest wholesale suppliers of tyres and wheels in Ireland. As Fred gives me a tour of the place, I am amazed to see the sheer volume of tyres and wheels that fill the company's premises and the expansive concrete yards that surround it.
There are tyres to suit every type of car and truck as well as for every sort of farm, construction and grass-cutting machine imaginable.
"Even when I was at school, I was always more interested in making or fixing things than doing homework," laughs Fred.
He went straight into farming after school and, in order to expand, he began to rent additional land. At one stage he had more than 1,000 acres rented on which he grew barley and wheat as well as milling grain for himself and others.
While still farming, he set up a contract building company erecting silage pits and grain stores for other farmers. It was the mid-Seventies and Fred was employing about 30 people.
He then decided to diversify even further and, along with two other business partners, built a 600-unit piggery. During 1978 and 1980, economic conditions worsened. Diesel prices rose dramatically and interest rates soared a staggering 23 per cent.
To add further to his troubles, bad weather meant that Fred experienced a poor yield from his crops during those years, culminating in serious financial losses.
In the summer of 1980 he went to Holland to visit a business contact who shared his interest in machinery. While there, the two men visited a local car-dismantling business and before he knew it, Fred had bought 1,200 good quality second-hand wheels and tyres.
It was an act of kindness Fred never forgot. Word spread and, when his stock sold out, he began travelling to Holland every month to buy more. His tyre business had taken off.
Some of the tyres he imported did not readily fit standard European-sized wheels and so he began to manufacture new wheels.
"That was the start of the manufacturing end of our business," says Fred. "And it represents almost one-third of our business today."
During the mid Eighties, the weather was so bad that turf contractors were struggling to get their cutting machines to travel on waterlogged bogs. Fred discovered that, if he bolted two wheels together on each side of the machine, this would spread the weight of the machine and thereby make it less inclined to sink in the wet ground.
According to former American baseball player, Sam Ewing: "Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at all."
Fred Clarke is one man who has never been afraid to roll up his sleeves. His is an inspiring story that demonstrates what can be achieved through hard work, resilience and an enterprising mindset. This week I travelled to Bailieborough, in Co Cavan, to meet Fred and to learn about Agrigear, the company he set up 32 years ago.
Agrigear is one of the largest wholesale suppliers of tyres and wheels in Ireland. As Fred gives me a tour of the place, I am amazed to see the sheer volume of tyres and wheels that fill the company's premises and the expansive concrete yards that surround it.
There are tyres to suit every type of car and truck as well as for every sort of farm, construction and grass-cutting machine imaginable.
"Even when I was at school, I was always more interested in making or fixing things than doing homework," laughs Fred.
He went straight into farming after school and, in order to expand, he began to rent additional land. At one stage he had more than 1,000 acres rented on which he grew barley and wheat as well as milling grain for himself and others.
While still farming, he set up a contract building company erecting silage pits and grain stores for other farmers. It was the mid-Seventies and Fred was employing about 30 people.
He then decided to diversify even further and, along with two other business partners, built a 600-unit piggery. During 1978 and 1980, economic conditions worsened. Diesel prices rose dramatically and interest rates soared a staggering 23 per cent.
To add further to his troubles, bad weather meant that Fred experienced a poor yield from his crops during those years, culminating in serious financial losses.
In the summer of 1980 he went to Holland to visit a business contact who shared his interest in machinery. While there, the two men visited a local car-dismantling business and before he knew it, Fred had bought 1,200 good quality second-hand wheels and tyres.
It was an act of kindness Fred never forgot. Word spread and, when his stock sold out, he began travelling to Holland every month to buy more. His tyre business had taken off.
Some of the tyres he imported did not readily fit standard European-sized wheels and so he began to manufacture new wheels.
"That was the start of the manufacturing end of our business," says Fred. "And it represents almost one-third of our business today."
During the mid Eighties, the weather was so bad that turf contractors were struggling to get their cutting machines to travel on waterlogged bogs. Fred discovered that, if he bolted two wheels together on each side of the machine, this would spread the weight of the machine and thereby make it less inclined to sink in the wet ground.
訂閱：
文章 (Atom)