Of the current forms of self-adornment, few are more shudder-inducing than body piercing, simply because of the nature of the beast. Putting a piece. Of metal. Through. The. Flesh. That said, the piercers at Saint Sabrina's Parlor in Purgatory are needle-wielding masters. The parlor's devil-may-care exterior is deceptive. The well-lighted salon is an aggressively antiseptic place; an autoclave machine, ultrasonic cleaner, and two separate sterilization rooms ensure sterility. And while they're not doctors, the three full-time piercers are trained in first aid and CPR. (So what if they wear hooded sweatshirts instead of lab coats?) Saint Sabrina's staff completes some 125 piercings per week, ranging from the ever-popular navel (thank you, Britney) and tongue to the challenging orbital, which connects several holes with a single ring. Post-perforation, piercees receive aftercare visits and can ask questions via phone or e-mail (industrious customers have even zapped off photos of their healing progress). One must still suffer to look good, but with amenities like these at the Parlor in Purgatory, getting pierced doesn't have to hurt like hell.