About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. At Salon OC, a sign appeared one day in the ladies’ restroom: ‘Please leave your umbrella outside.’ No one paid much attention until umbrellas started disappearing. Soon enough, everyone was talking about it—‘Did you hear? Your umbrella might be gone when you come back!’ Finally, an old lady approached the owner and asked, ‘Is there any reward for returning these umbrellas?’ With a smile, she replied, ‘No, but maybe just a little gratitude from those who found their lost raincoats.’
2. One morning, while waiting for her turn, a regular noticed something odd on the salon’s reception desk: an old, dusty key ring with no label. Curious, she picked it up and found that one rusty key opened the small cabinet behind the counter. Inside was a pile of old newspapers from the 90s. Turned out, the owner had accidentally locked himself out years ago during a power cut—and never bothered to change the key! Everyone got a good laugh when they finally realized why Salon OC always seemed so cozy and homey.
3. At Salon OC, every Wednesday afternoon around three o'clock, an old gramophone record would start playing faintly from inside the reception area. No one could identify what it was, but everyone agreed it sounded like a distant waltz from another era. One day, a new intern asked curiously, ‘What’s that strange music?’ An elderly lady passing by smiled and whispered, ‘Oh, that? It’s just Salon OC’s weekly time machine. Don’t worry, it only plays for thirty minutes before fading away.’ The intern looked puzzled until her neighbor chimed in, ‘Trust me, honey, if you hear it, just hum along—nobody minds!’
4. At Salon OC, during early autumn evenings when the air outside grew crisp and quiet, a strange phenomenon began to occur. After closing hours, when only the soft hum of vacuum cleaners lingered, a faint scent of freshly baked cookies wafted through the empty hallway. One evening, an exhausted delivery driver entered the nearly deserted salon, searching for a place to rest his head. To his surprise, he found himself surrounded by rows of comfy armchairs, each one whispering softly like old friends. As he dozed off, he dreamt of being serenaded by the gentle hum of blowdryers and the distant sound of cookie-baking fairies—until someone gently nudged him awake with a warm smile and said, ‘Time for your trim, sir!’