D'Hair to Be Different

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. In the early morning fog of a Sunday in Salem, Oregon, a delivery driver pulled up to D’Hair to Be Different salon. The usual quiet street was eerily empty except for one figure—an old lady with an impossibly perfect bob. She asked him to sit down and cut his hair exactly like hers—a meticulous style that looked nothing like anything on their menu. Afterward, she left without paying, leaving behind only a smile and a whisper: ‘Now you’ll never be ordinary.’

2. At dawn one autumn day, a delivery driver pulled up outside D’Hair to Be Different salon. The truck’s engine sputtered and spewed out an oddly familiar scent—a mix of freshly baked bread and old books. Curious customers peered out their windows as the driver sniffed the air, scratching his head. He looked around, then grinned sheepishly. ‘Guess I better get inside,’ he muttered. As he opened the door, the scent intensified—now mixed with something sweet like cookies baking in an old oven. A friendly voice called from within: 'Welcome! Just in time for our special aromatic Thursday.' Turns out, it was just another quirky Thursday at D’Hair to Be Different.

3. At dawn one autumn day, a delivery driver pulled up outside D’Hair to Be Different. ‘Finally,’ he muttered, ‘the sign is working!’ As he got out of his truck, he noticed something peculiar—hanging from the neon sign was an errant hairclip. With a shake of his head and a smile, he thought, 'Another day, another hair adventure!'

4. At dusk one summer night, a delivery driver pulled up outside D’Hair to Be Different. The streetlights flickered on as he noticed an odd humming sound coming from inside—a deep, almost hypnotic tone that seemed to vibrate through the air. Curious, he opened the door slowly, and what he saw made him freeze: the salon was filled with dancing hairdryers, their lights twinkling in time to the hum. A regular customer, mid-shampoo, smiled serenely, completely oblivious to the chaos around her. ‘It’s just our weekly dance party,’ she explained. The delivery driver left quickly, never telling anyone what he’d seen—except maybe his cat, who nodded knowingly.