Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Skinney Medspa

I'm not really the hoity-toity MedSpa type of girl, but my side gig had me traveling up towards the Bloomingdales crowds to seek out this spa for a Photofacial. What's that? you ask? Good question. They take a laser and run it over your face to eliminate bacteria and help reduce lines and pigmentation.

It makes you pretty.

Or so they say. The spa is nestled inside on a block of brownstones. It looks like a house when you walk in and you have to be buzzed in order to gain entry. I let them know I was there, and was told they were running a little behind. After filling out a bio sheet, much like a doctor's office, I sat and waited. It wasn't a bad wait. I watched East Side trust fund babies ask a million questions about how the treatments would hinder their weekend social scenes at the Hamptons.

I listened to some blonde nitwit whine about wanting beautiful skin for her wedding, but refused to wear a hat or put on zinc at the beach house her mother owned that she frequented 4 out of the 7 days of the week. (She only works 3 days, she giggled to the front desk staff.) When the tech insisted again that she really can't opening expose her skin to the sun after having the treatment, she went on a whine about how Samantha Jones (Sex and the City) ended up with a hideous red, puffy face after an errant run-in with the laser. The tech laughed and reminded her it was only a movie, and sun damage on freshly lasered skin was no joke.

So, my tech, Adriana, is gorgeous. I mean, really beautiful. Perfect skin, perfectly highlighted light brown hair, a perky smile and a mini skirt with tall fuck-me pumps to accentuate perfect legs. She wore a lab coat with her name on it. This is probably to give the illusion of making her look more professional, but I had already found out that wielding a laser at someone's skin doesn't require many, (if any), credentials.

Never the less, I went in, she reviewed my skin sheet, and agreed that clearer skin would be a wonderful goal for someone as young as me. When I told her I was 33, she was reluctant to believe it. She contemplated doing a chemical peel on me, but after reminding her I was leaving for a vacation the next day, she relented on sticking with the laser.

A cold goo was spread all over my face and she went to work. If you've never had any skin laser procedures done before, this was my experience:

Your eyes are covered with a protective goggle much like the one's used in tanning beds. A cold blue goo is spread over your face to keep your skin cool and to help the laser affect the areas targeted. She starts moving around and warns me when she is about to pulse the laser. Even with my eyes closed I see a flash of red every where when she pulses. It's lighting up all those tiny veins and capillaries mapped across my skin. She asks me how I feel. The pulse makes a noise which makes me jump, but after the 2nd pulse, it doesn't startle me anymore and I'm not jumping. She asks if I feel anything. Nothing. She stops and turns up the knob. She pulsed again. Anything? No, nothing. Another knob turn. Again. Nothing. She adjusts that knob about 4 times before a feel a little pinch of heat hitting my skin when she pulses. Then, she's satisfied that she has the right intensity going.

I'm glad to know she didn't crank that thin up to fry the hell out of me right from the beginning. I would have lost my patience the 2nd time around and given the knob a good turn, but she was careful to ease it up slowly so she wouldn't hurt me or burn me. The whole thing was done in under ten minutes. She wiped off the blue goo and rubbed a lovely smelling sunblock all over my face. I was worried that my skin my suffer if I slabbed my foundation back on, but after looking at a mirror I was floored to realized I didn't need any. My skin looked....looked....flawless!!!! I had a lovely glow. There was no redness or blotchiness. I looked like a normal person with PERFECT skin.

Holy shit on a pita!! Is this how the rich people manage to look pretty ALL THE TIME????

I didn't experience any redness or peeling afterwards, which makes me think she could have cranked that laser up a little higher. However, my skin was certainly a million times better in touch and in sight that it was before I walked in there. She only did my face, and not my decolletage, and I can see the difference.

There was a groupon type deal on line with them which gave you 1 IPL photofacials for $200 which is about half off the normal price. I did see women in there for a 3 for $99 deal but I don't know if that was for laser hair removal or something else. The photofacials really did a number of my skin and I gotta say, after checking out the pictures my aunt took of my on vacation, I look.....dare I say....better? 

I don't know how long the laser treatment will last. I'm a little sad because I know this isn't something I'd ever be able to afford on a regular basis. I'm really glad my gig let me experience something so luxurious, but I know I'm already struggling to pay the important bills. Little "me" luxuries have already been cut out of my budget. It's hard to imagine there are women in this city who can do this without blinking an eye on a regular basis. It makes me wonder what they're doing right and what I'm doing wrong.


  1. wtf?! This isn't Seattle day 2!!!!! What gives?

    1. Obligations. Your word is only as good as your last broken promise.

  2. Hey, sorry about chiming in sorta late....

    I just read this.

    "Holy shit on a pita!! Is this how the rich people manage to look pretty ALL THE TIME????"

    Katniss you're pretty all time time; rich or poor, with or without lasers.

    Is this really how you feel about yourself?

    1. That's so nice of you to say. Look, I know when I was younger I wasn't bad looking, but I'm not one of these naturally beautiful people. I had to work on looking pretty, and it's so much harder now that I'm older.

      I've never walked out in public without makeup and felt like I looked awesome. This was the first time I ever looked in the mirror and the face looking back at me was better than any face I've ever done up in makeup before. It was staggering. I nearly left in tears. Thinking it was just a lighting trick in the office, I checked out my face when I got home and I still looked so pretty- makeup free.

      It was a nice way to start my Seattle trip.

    2. This is the only time i'm gonna say this and its mostly cuz I don't want Josh getting all the friend points here.

      You're pretty, not jsut pretty- beautiful. Not because of perfect skin or gapless teeth or perky c-cup breast. All those htings can be fixed with money.

      You're beautiful because when you care REALLY CARE about other people, it's real and genuine. And all these men that you've REALLY loved and took it for granted, will always have a tiny, little speck inside them that remembers that someone like you could look at someone like them and truly love them- flaws and all. And you are flawless because of that one simple fact.

      Not all of us are going to be supermodels. But not all supermodels can be as beautiful as your heart is.

      No more mush. You're hot, maybe a little fluffier than you used to be 3 years ago, but I'd still do you. ;) Go on a diet and be done with the bitchin about superficiality. You're above that noise anyway, right?