06 March 2004
Haha, I bet y'all are just dying to hear about my Erno Laszlo pHacial experience at Bergdorf's, eh?
Well I'm going to tell you about it anyway, so you might as well read on.
I arrived at Bergdorf's 15 minutes early and so they started my consultation right when I got there. I got to sit under a glaring light while the obviously gay consultant asked me questions about my skin type. I could literally feel myself getting sweaty, which made me more nervous, cause I didn't want to look a liar when they were asking me questions. Finally, he said I was a "one o'clock" according to Dr. Laszlo's clocking system (which I think sounds like a lot of crock) and sent me on in to the aesthetician.
The aesthetician, as it turned out, was from the Dominican Republic, separated, and was originally going to be a doctor here but they held her papers for 3 years. Also, she has one son named Rudy, aged 11, who is asking awkward questions (examples of these questions to follow). I learned all this while she was giving me a massage.
But let me backtrack a bit here. Okay, so I walked into the room for the treatment, and right off had to wash my face using their technique. Their technique, as far as I can see, is also a bunch of crock. First, I had to spread some sort of "non comedogenic" oil (I highly doubt the veracity of the quoted part) on the dry areas of my face, then dip the seamud soap into the basin of hot water and scrub my face with it. Next, and this was the part I had the most trouble with as I wear contacts, I was supposed to splash my face clean. Apparently, I was doing it wrong, so I had to re-splash my face about 20 times. Then, I reclined on the massage chair while she turned on the fluorescent light. She said she normally didn't turn on this light, but she had to look at my face as I had a lot of impurities. "We don't do extractions here," she said. I nodded in understanding.
She then proceeded to spread volcanic rock and aloe on my face (I know this because I asked about the ingredients). The massage came next. It was during this that she told me the aforementioned information. Her son was the spouter of such precocious utterings as:
"Mama, I feel a bing when I see a girl in a bikini."
"Mama, why you have titties and I got none?"
"Mama, how do babies come out of the little hole?"
Yup. This was all highly amusing to me. I liked how she didn't feel the need to censor anything she was saying. The massage was very nice also, as she used a wonderful smelling lotion. My neck, hands, and shoulders ended up very well-lotioned indeed.
She washed the mask off my face, then came the pain. She used toner-soaked cotton pads to extract. Yes, even after she said they didn't do extractions, she still chose to squeeze my face all over, and my poor nose until my eyes teared. Afterwards, she spread on some makeup, because I think she was frightened of the effect she had had on my face, as I have dermatographism, which is a skin condition that causes me to swell up when people scratch or poke at me.
Finally, I went out, back to the glaring light where the salesman told me I looked 'glowing' and another said he didn't even recognize me. I laughed inside, as I could feel my swollen nose. They tried to sell me their products, but I firmly refused and said I needed to talk to my parents about it. I ended up getting little samples in a Bergdorf's bag to take with me, so I was happy.
And that's my story.
Well I'm going to tell you about it anyway, so you might as well read on.
I arrived at Bergdorf's 15 minutes early and so they started my consultation right when I got there. I got to sit under a glaring light while the obviously gay consultant asked me questions about my skin type. I could literally feel myself getting sweaty, which made me more nervous, cause I didn't want to look a liar when they were asking me questions. Finally, he said I was a "one o'clock" according to Dr. Laszlo's clocking system (which I think sounds like a lot of crock) and sent me on in to the aesthetician.
The aesthetician, as it turned out, was from the Dominican Republic, separated, and was originally going to be a doctor here but they held her papers for 3 years. Also, she has one son named Rudy, aged 11, who is asking awkward questions (examples of these questions to follow). I learned all this while she was giving me a massage.
But let me backtrack a bit here. Okay, so I walked into the room for the treatment, and right off had to wash my face using their technique. Their technique, as far as I can see, is also a bunch of crock. First, I had to spread some sort of "non comedogenic" oil (I highly doubt the veracity of the quoted part) on the dry areas of my face, then dip the seamud soap into the basin of hot water and scrub my face with it. Next, and this was the part I had the most trouble with as I wear contacts, I was supposed to splash my face clean. Apparently, I was doing it wrong, so I had to re-splash my face about 20 times. Then, I reclined on the massage chair while she turned on the fluorescent light. She said she normally didn't turn on this light, but she had to look at my face as I had a lot of impurities. "We don't do extractions here," she said. I nodded in understanding.
She then proceeded to spread volcanic rock and aloe on my face (I know this because I asked about the ingredients). The massage came next. It was during this that she told me the aforementioned information. Her son was the spouter of such precocious utterings as:
"Mama, I feel a bing when I see a girl in a bikini."
"Mama, why you have titties and I got none?"
"Mama, how do babies come out of the little hole?"
Yup. This was all highly amusing to me. I liked how she didn't feel the need to censor anything she was saying. The massage was very nice also, as she used a wonderful smelling lotion. My neck, hands, and shoulders ended up very well-lotioned indeed.
She washed the mask off my face, then came the pain. She used toner-soaked cotton pads to extract. Yes, even after she said they didn't do extractions, she still chose to squeeze my face all over, and my poor nose until my eyes teared. Afterwards, she spread on some makeup, because I think she was frightened of the effect she had had on my face, as I have dermatographism, which is a skin condition that causes me to swell up when people scratch or poke at me.
Finally, I went out, back to the glaring light where the salesman told me I looked 'glowing' and another said he didn't even recognize me. I laughed inside, as I could feel my swollen nose. They tried to sell me their products, but I firmly refused and said I needed to talk to my parents about it. I ended up getting little samples in a Bergdorf's bag to take with me, so I was happy.
And that's my story.