Has many teeth but cannot bite, Straightena tangles to make you look right. If you are bald, it's useless quite, Just plastic trash left in your sight

I have no lips, yet I drink my fill, I hold rich dark earth while standing still. I nurture a bloom and keep roots secure, Made of clay, glass, or plastic to endure.

When feet grow weary and need a rest, I cradle them snug on my cozy nest. By the fire's glow or at evening's close, I'm the woolly embrace for tired toes.

Up and down I continue to style .... But break and stick can be fragile.

I spin but never travel, I hold the world but never leave my stand. What am I?