About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. In the early morning fog of New York City, when most salons were still closed, Enlighten Beauty Studio opened its doors for an unusual clientele. A delivery driver, always in a hurry, began stopping by every day around dawn. He’d enter without saying a word, sit in the quietest corner, and emerge half an hour later with a smile on his face. One morning, the owner noticed that the delivery driver had brought along his neighbor—a grumpy old man who never smiled. Half an hour later, both emerged laughing as if they’d shared the best joke ever. From then on, whenever someone entered alone, the staff knew another smile was bound to appear.
2. In the dimly lit hallway of Enlighten Beauty Studio, a delivery driver muttered under his breath one afternoon: ‘This place is cursed.’ Ever since then, every time someone left their phone or wallet behind, it would mysteriously reappear in the same spot—except for the driver’s keys, which had yet to turn up. Finally, after weeks of searching, the studio manager found an old keyring hidden among the makeup brushes. Turns out, it belonged to a regular who’d dropped by earlier that morning. The mystery solved, everyone laughed and shook hands—even the delivery driver, who swore he never even had any keys to begin with.
3. In the quiet afternoon of Los Angeles, while customers relaxed in the Enlighten Beauty Studio, a soft humming filled the air. A regular, adjusting his glasses and leaning closer to the mirror, whispered, ‘I think I just heard someone practicing for an audition.’ Suddenly, the door opened with a creak, and a gruff voice called out, 'Hey, anyone here speak Russian?' Turning around, everyone saw a delivery driver scratching his head. The regulars burst into laughter as they realized he was probably rehearsing lines for his next role.
4. In the humdrum routine of an average weekday, a delivery driver pulled up to Enlighten Beauty Studio with a box full of supplies. As he approached the door, something peculiar happened—his reflection in the studio’s large mirror seemed to follow him, whispering softly and pointing towards the waiting room. The delivery driver turned around sharply, but saw only his own puzzled face staring back from the glass. He shook it off, entered the studio, and soon enough forgot all about it until later that evening when he found himself standing in front of the same mirror at home—and again, his reflection was whispering and pointing at nothing. His neighbor laughed as she walked past, muttering, ‘Maybe you should get your hair done there.’