Two Thursdays ago, Ashley and I set out for a long night of cocktail events and meetings. We started out at a beautiful 5th Ave. penthouse for cocktails at about 5:30pm with the founder of Sephora, and were in pretty good spirits by 7 when it was time to head to our next event. We were a little buzzed from champagne on empty stomachs, but headed over by foot to the Uni.K.Wax 1 year anniversary party. We expected the typical media crowd: lots of writers, a few notable faces, and maybe a couple film crews. What we found was quite different.
As we approached the waxing center on 3rd Ave (honestly, I don’t know what we should have expected from a waxing center’s anniversary party) we noticed there was a red carpet rolled out. Ashley and I looked at each other and wondered if we’d be seeing some famous NY faces. We didn’t. We did, however, walk into a techno/disco scene that will be forever imprinted in my mind. The reception area was taken over by a D.J. that looked curiously like my hair stylist (regular hair, not wax-worthy hair), a bartender serving up STRONG cocktails, and a staff of eager women insisting that we get waxed. At this point, maybe it was the champagne, but Ashley and I just went for it.
We were guided down a narrow hallway filled with half naked models that were lounging and dancing to the sound of whatever the hell you heard in Ibiza last summer, past a table full of cold cuts (maybe a bizarre choice for a vaj waxing center?) to a crowded area full of party goers. The party was full of straight men, and I’m pretty sure they were all geniuses. Where else in NY can you guarantee free alkie, food, and every woman in the room with a clean bikini line? Anyway, Ashley and I each went into waxing booth, stripped down, and waited for our “technician” to return. When mine returned, she was happy to tell me how excited she was about the party and all the fun people (as she basted my nether-regions in the special proprietary Uni.K.Wax green wax). Baste. Pull strip. SLAP. Repeat.
I’ve had plenty of waxes in my day, but never has a small, seemingly-gentle woman proceeded to SLAP my crotch with fervor as she talked about music, the neighborhood, and fun cuisines to try. It was a shame that my champagne buzz was starting to wear off, because about the middle of this waxing situation was when I realized that the whole scenario was beyond bizarre. Ten minutes, 7 vigorous slaps, and zero cold cuts later, I had one of the best Brazilian waxes ever.
…unfortunately, I was too creeped out to dance to the killer house music up front. Ashley and I hurried to our next meeting immediately (dinner with wholesome midwestern ladies that were shocked by this story).
the DJ was the best part. he was on the mic like a champ- making sure all the ‘lovely ladies’ dropped their biz cards for a free wax sesh.
James says: ” i’ll slap, slap you”
hahahaha… great wax story.
I loved my old waxing place on 6th ave below 14th. My waxer and I would do Vodka shots and after one grueling head to toe session, I ended up at a cabaret in Little Odessa where I made out with a stunning Serbian dude who looked just like my ex.. I loved the way he butchered my name.
WE WANT TO SEE YOUR TRIM SNATCH! NOT HEAR ABOUT IT. SHOW IT!!