Promising ‘a high quality service with customer satisfaction every time’, this discreet salon opened in June last year. Offering myriad different treatments including massage and tinting, I also noticed that men were catered for and volunteered fellow WLL reviewer Elliot Tucker for a laugh. To my surprise he agreed ‘in the name of journalistic endeavour’. Impressive display of balls, I thought—shame they would soon be as bald as boiled eggs.
Backtracking followed bravado though. Elliot cried off, citing a trip to Ireland that apparently prevented him from attending. My machismo kicked in; I would show the younger man I wasn’t afraid to give up a few hairs in the name of journalism.
Over an awkward midweek phone call, Amelia diplomatically told me that she did not offer intimate waxing for men but that she would be more than happy to offer a chest or back wax. Knowing the missus was quite fond of my modest pecs covering, I requested a bit of shaping of the unruliness (this is called ‘blending’, apparently) and some off the back. Why hairs are disappearing from my crown and reappearing on my shoulders is one of the mysteries of middle age.
In the middle of a spacious and minimally decorated room sat the bed, which came without the imagined manacles for the torture I expected to ensue. Everything was very neat and tidy, much as I would soon be. Amelia was gently reassuring and the comfortable bed was welcome after a day upright in front of a screen.
Talc was sprinkled on my skin to prevent it being ripped off with the hairs, then the hot wax applied, which came as a very warm surprise to my innocent nerve endings. Unexpectedly, the first rip wasn’t too much of a shock and I noted no tears welling at my eyes. This wasn’t so bad after all. Amelia proved super quick at applying and ripping and although she let me know there was a bit of ‘spotting’ (the first time I’ve bled for you readers) it felt no worse than having a plaster ripped off.
Another surprise was that I got used to that repeated sensation very quickly. My theory is that our chatting served to take my mind off it. It could also have been the antiseptic nature of the tea tree and green tea in the wax. Newly neat, I was allowed to admire my now artfully shaped chest rug in the mirror, albeit a bit pink and rashy around the edges, before the truly enjoyable bit. Australian body care after wax lotion was smoothed over; coupled with the following camomile lotion, this felt very cooling and soothing.
Despite stupidly arriving with a rucksack I was bound to wear afterwards there was only a little itchiness throughout the evening: no soreness though. The morning after revealed some pink pimples but these settled down after a couple of days.
The bonus was my pigeon chest felt a little bigger, a mite more manly. Any men with a touch of the masochist in them will enjoy it; the vain amongst you certainly will. For the scared and curious, trust in Amelia’s breezy manner to put you at ease. The pain isn’t as bad as the one in your imagination and chances are you’ll notice a spring in your step afterwards.