Tuesday, 18 October 2011

Since when did a facial involve your feet?

Number 16 on the list is to "Add the odd facial into your beauty regime"

A facial, you would think, involves your face. So imagine my shock when I went into the Clarin’s skin spa yesterday for a facial and was asked to “take your clothes off to the waist down and pop them there”. What have my boobs got to do with my face? Slight panic set in, but as facials are not a regular part of my “Not looking like a Hag” routine, I went with it and whipped em out.

I love the Clarins skin spa. All the therapists do a great job of being, or pretending to be nice. If I had to sit in the dark most of the day, wearing an ungodly amount of eye makeup (and that’s coming from me who is just 2 shades off transvestite when it comes to my eye makeup) – and rub my hands all over potentially smelly or scabby strangers, I would find it hard to raise a smile when the next one walked through the door. But these lovely, permatanned troopers manage it come rain or shine.

Once I had stripped to the waste down, I had to slip under a duvet on a treatment bed and the therapist began the treatment. She placed an eye mask over my eyes and then wandered down to the bottom of the bed. Now, I’m not questioning the intelligence of this woman, but I was under the impression that our most basic, free to all education covered the simple biology of where the head is in relation to the feet. She genuinely squeaked with surprise when she lifted the covers to find my feet – in socks – at the bottom of my body. “I was going to do a foot cleanse” she said. Not predicting that a facial involved my feet made me feel like a complete rooky in this pampering game.

So she smeared lovely smelling goop, upon lovely smelling goop on to my face, massaging my back neck and arms while it all attempted to sink in.

There was a lot of whispery talking, which made my mind giggle, because there was no one else around but I felt I had to whisper back anyway. All in all it was a very relaxing experience

Once she had finished I was greased up like an oven chip, my hair and face was glistening and this was how I returned to work. All my spots were out winking at people in the office but bless them, they did a good job of pretending not to notice.

The result? Well something reacted with my eyes, so by the evening with my greasy hair and skin, the addition of big red puffy eyes had me looking like a Witch. This morning however my spots did look like they had cleared up a little and my skin didn’t look as tired as usual.

I think I’d need to have a few more to really see the benefit of time rolling back off my face, but just for the relaxation factor and massage alone it was worth the £45 – next time though, I’ll remember to take my socks off.