Wax On/Wax Off

I've lived in New York, Miami Beach, Las Vegas, Santa Fe and now Lafayette, CO. I've pole danced in all those places, and therefore, have gotten Brazilian waxed in all those cities. While I may not be an expert, I know a thing or two about ripping hair off of sensitive body parts.

It was the mid '90s when I first received a Brazilian wax. As a matter of fact, it wasn't even called a "Brazilian"--nobody performed that service so it didn't even have a name yet. Suzanne, a pre-Goth chick working at Salon 123 on Fifth Avenue was discovered by my friend, Kina. I had never done any waxing whatsoever so I had nothing to compare it to. She was serious and intense and reminded me of Parker Posey wearing hardcore black stomper boots under her white aesthetician coat. I was intrigued by her long, jet black hair and perfectly blunt bangs. She was also quite an efficient waxer. I was in and out in 25 minutes. Salon 123 was a converted loft on the 2nd floor with 12 foot arched windows between every hair station and beautiful, creaky dark wood floors. It was a Greenwich Village/Chelsea clientele who apparently never waxed because while the rest of the salon was fairly luxe, the waxing room was barely bigger than the table it held. I called up one day asking for Suzanne, who always booked her own appointments. Unfortunately Suzanne was out, and the following conversation was...painful:
     Me: I need to book an appointment with Suzanne. She knows me.
     Her: What is it for?
     Me: (squirming) Um...she knows.
     Her: (immediately snotty) Well I can't make an appointment unless I know how long it'll take!
     Me: It's...a bikini wax...a FULL bikini wax...
     Her: What the hell does that mean?
     Me: (extremely agitated by now) She takes all the hair off my ¥%**y!
     Her: (meekly)...well you don't have to be rude about it...
As I said: nobody was doing it and nobody was getting it done then.

Miami was the exact opposite. There were waxing salons on every block and every place offered a Brazilian...for $20. The ladies were lovely, but clearly came from the Grip & Rip school of beauty. Some were more careful than others, but practically every time I got waxed, I came home with slightly burned skin in a very delicate area. I shrugged it off: it was pretty much what I'd expect for $20.

One would think that with all the showgirls and strippers in Vegas that there'd be a plethora of salons at extremely competitive prices. Perhaps there were, but I never found them. The one place I went to charged close to $80 and perhaps to offset the cost, I was given a hot pink thong as a parting gift. I did find one aesthetician that I liked, but she had plans to move out of state in the next few months. FYI: turns out that all the professional dancers had their hair permanently removed by laser. It seems that the price of the laser procedures would end up costing less than waxing for eternity. Makes sense, but who knew?

I did not hold out any hope that there would be any waxing options in the marijuana smoking, granola eating, Birkenstock wearing City Different. I was pleasantly surprised to find a salon close to the end of our 6-month stint in Santa Fe. The aesthetician was wonderful but the price tag was exorbitant. It was enough to make me consider going to aesthetician school and opening up my own waxing establishment.

So when we got to Boulder (yet another hippie-dippie town)  I was hopeful, but not expectant. My husband thoughtfully bought me a gift certificate to a chichi spa that our neighbor said was well-known in town. I was shocked that the receptionist was so condescending, unhelpful, and resentful. I almost left before the service even began. The spa was blissful but the waxing itself was only serviceable. The second time I visited the spa, the receptionist was new with a slightly better attitude, but the wax resulted in my very first ingrown hairs. For all the time I had been getting waxed, I had never suffered ingrowns or even irritation. As well, upon closer inspection, I found at least five missed hairs. I was beyond annoyed and heading towards desperate. As a pole dance instructor, I couldn't very well sashay around with a "situation" going on down there.

After two short flights of stairs, I opened the door to Waxing The City. I peered down the long, bleached hallway, and the receptionist welcomed me with a greeting and a smile. I asked if they took walk-ins and she replied sincerely: "we try to". She asked me if there was at least 2-4 weeks of growth (to which the answer was a firm "yes") and then went to see if anyone was free.  The waiting room was bright and pleasant, and before I could even settle down with October's Allure, I was asked to fill out an information sheet. There was a thorough checklist asking if I were on certain medications or pregnant, etc. It was professional and very appreciated by this particular client. Summer came in to introduce herself and lead me to a room. After explaining what she wanted me to do (again, very much appreciated because it left no room for wondering how much clothing to take off or which way I should face on the table), I requested a pillow because I was battling a mild attack of vertigo. She returned with a bolster normally used to prop oneself up in bed. I was grateful not to have to lay flat on my back.

Summer, a genuinely kind woman, chatted easily with me as she worked adeptly with the hard wax. The temperature was perfect--I never felt in danger of being scalded or skinned. She rolled up a towel to support my injured hip and I relaxed into the table. She revealed that she'd been an aesthetician for 13 years and had, up until recently, been traveling to Texas twice a month to work there. Clearly she was in demand and excellent at what she does in order for her company to fly her around, rather than merely hire another waxer. She worked quickly yet unhurriedly, casual in manner but extremely professional. Before I knew it, one side was bare and she was leaning in with her tweezers and lighted magnifying device.

Waxing The City has three tiers of "cerologist", their own term for waxing expert. The tier determines the pricing but is not necessarily an indication of expertise--it only means the amount of time the cerologist has been working at Waxing The City. When I checked out, I noticed there was no line on the receipt for a tip. Summer told me that tipping is not allowed, but that if I were happy with the service, they would like it if I would recommend them to a friend. I hope a blog counts!

A word of warning: Summer only works at Waxing The City in Boulder two days per month. The rest of the time she's in Denver. I really lucked out!