I know what you’re thinking–and you’re dead wrong!
You think you’ll make it to Labor Day without another bikini wax, but I’m here to tell you that you’re always much hairier than you think ! Wake up and smell the wax! Glamorous Italian movie actresses can get away with a few tufts here and there, but you can’t. While you’re sitting around procrastinating and whining about how much it hurts, your various areas are only getting hairier. Pick up the phone immediately and make the damn appointment.
You may have considerable trouble getting a last-minute slot with the more modish Manhattan hair-removal mavens. The J Sisters, par example , at 35 West 57th Street (750-2485), have very few openings (pardon the expression) between now and Friday, Sept. 1.
You know the J Sisters, those seven notorious Brazilian gals whose favorite trick is to throw your legs over your head while proffering a hand mirror for your post-wax self-inspection. “The customer wanna see what you’ve done,” explained sultry, heavily accented salon manager Maggie when I spoke to her. “She like the look. She like very sexy, clean and hygienic everything.” But the J Sisters are not just hygienic; they’re hotter than molten wax. In fact, their trash cans are full of the clumpy, waxy hairballs left by models, movie stars and notable New Yorkers (from Gwyneth Paltrow to Marci Klein), and you’re going to have to get creative if you want a last-minute appointment.
A florist of my acquaintance has, on more than one occasion, been required by prominent gals to send baroque floral arrangements to Judesia, Jussara, Juracy, Jocely, Janea, Joyce and Jonice with pleading and attention-getting notes attached (e.g., “Me and my formerly bald vagina–we wanna see you!!”). But I digress.…
If you are unable to schedule an emergency bikini wax, then don’t get all neurotic and cancel your last Hamptons weekend. All you probably need is a quick touch-up (pardon the expression), and there are do-it-yourself options, some of which you could actually self-administer in the Jitney bathroom without attracting too much attention.
The intriguingly named Nad’s hair remover is a
The minute you return from your summer-finale weekend, get on the phone and book yourself a Permanent Hair Reduction Treatment at Completely Bare, 764 Madison Avenue (717-9300) or 12 Chase Road in Scarsdale, N.Y. (914-713-0200). This treatment involves an epoch-making new $150,000 machine called the Epi-Light (not to be confused with the tortuous, skin-ripping EpiLady of yore), and it’s causing shock waves in the hair-removal community and beyond. According to Completely Bare proprietor Cindy Barshop, it “kills the follicle–no ingrown hairs, no bumps and no pain.” No pain ? “It feels like panty-elastic twanging gently against your skin.” Extra incentive: It “guarantees that you’re always ready for action.”
Hairy-backed men take note: as per Ms. Barshop, “a massive Tony Soprano torso is a piece of cake.” Mediterranean girls take note: Cindy can customize your treatment based on your hair color, texture and location.
Six sessions, scheduled over six months, start at $960. By next summer, you will have lost 75 percent of your body hair–you’ll only need touch-ups. These need to be scheduled in a timely fashion or you may find yourself back in the can on the Jitney trying to Band-Aid off your stray wisps. As Cindy succinctly puts it, “A smart chick gets to know her own growth cycle and schedules her appointments accordingly.”
My hairy tips: If you’re hoping to meet a nice bloke and get married, then don’t shave yourself like a porn star–i.e., no hearts, flowers. Neat and tidy is the name of the game. If you’re already married, but you and your hubby haven’t shagged in a while, then shave like a porn star.
To any deranged, old-school bra-burners still clinging to the idea that body hair is a feminist issue, I say your ideas are out of date. Julia Roberts can get away with hairy pits–you can’t. And you’re not just more hairy than you think–you’re a big gorilla.
For years you have labored under the delusion that you were an enigmatic and fascinating person. You walked the streets of Manhattan convinced that everyone was spellbound by your innate mysteriousness.
Then, one day, you caught sight of your reflection in a subway car window and saw the horrible truth: You are just another New York career gal knocking herself out in a desperate attempt to be groovy and successful–no different from millions of others, past and present.
Reassert your uniqueness by learning to play the Theremin. Invented in 1920 by Russian physicist and musician Lev Termin, this precursor of the electronic synthesizer is enjoying a revival. It consists of a wooden box with a couple of antennae which, if lovingly stroked, produce those spooky, fluid sci-fi sounds which we’ve all heard in mystery and sci-fi movies–and the Beach Boys’ song “Good Vibrations.”
While all your friends are off at their kick-boxing classes, you can be ensconced with Danny Wang, New York’s pre-eminent Theremin authority, having your first lesson. Thirty-one-year-old Danny will teach you to play “The Swan” by Saint-Saëns and “Close to You” à la the Carpenters. According to Danny, it’s as easy as humming. There are “no keys or strings,” he said. “You stroke around the antennae with graceful, intuitive movements and keep the tune in your head. If you can sing in key, you can master the Theremin.”
The bad news is that lessons cost $200 per hour; the good news is that you only need one lesson. Call Danny Wang (677-7963), book an hour and then buy your instrument. Theremins cost $369.95 and can be purchased from Dr. Sound (334-5478) at 25 Mercer Street–between Yohji Yamamoto and Visionnaire.
Once you have achieved Theremin mastery, invite a few of your friends over and rivet them with a spellbinding impromptu recital. Wear something sleeveless and drapey, and cultivate a dreamy intergalactic demeanor.
Speaking of hair removal, I have no idea what state Kate Moss’ nether regions are in, but her new coiffure is unbelievably fab. She has, courtesy of hairdresser and fellow Londoner James Brown, availed herself of the most apropos haircut. It’s an updated early-80’s Human League (as in “I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar …”), short at the back, long over one eye. Tear out the picture on the previous page, run to your hairdresser and beg him to cut off your Madonna/ Ray of Light , shoulder-length, low-maintenance mop, at least before Labor Day and definitely before Fashion Week (Sept. 15).
If you hate your hairdresser, or he won’t give you an appointment before Labor Day, call Bumble and bumble (521-6500). They will happily give you a Kate for under $150; with optional dye job it’s approximately $250. Call immediately: Getting a “Kate” is not the kind of beauty transformation you can self-administer in the Hamptons Jitney bathroom.
