Mini-masochist: Tales of a Brow Wax Virgin
When it comes to eyebrows, I haven’t always had good luck. There were those grueling preteen years of bushy, overbearing brows, followed by botched wax jobs from classy joints with nail service in the front and a hospital gurney “waxing area” in the back. Left with little to work with, I have spent the past few years “following the path” that others had so carelessly created for me. Then I met G Spa‘s Eun Joo Tracy.
I popped in on a Saturday evening, hoping someone, ANYONE could save my face from complete destruction. Tracy took me upstairs to an oasis of dramatic draping and Pure Moods-esque music, then promptly took me to town for my malnourished brows. After explaining the art of the beautiful arch, Tracy made me swear I wouldn’t so much as touch a hair on my face until the next time I saw her. Only then could she really work her magic. I reluctantly obliged.
Oddly enough, though she spent the next 20 minutes ripping hair off my face with hot wax, I didn’t want to leave. The whole process felt strangely soothing, and it was comforting to know I wasn’t going to walk away looking like a St. Bernard, or worse, a Chihuahua (a Chihuahua would be worse, right?).
All in all, $25 well spent.
(G Spa, 35 Newbury St., Boston, 617-267-4772, www.gspa.biz)