There are always at least two reasons to do or not do something. For example, I rarely discuss my favorite local spots in Ireland or Los Angeles for 1) personal security reasons and 2) I don’t want them to get crowded. However, the secret salon of Dublin is now busy enough that I feel comfortable un-keeping the gate. If you see me nibbling chocolate to recover from a post-wax faint in the waiting room of Late Nite Beauty Salon, no, you didn’t.
It was spring. It was 6 weeks out from the Irish Summer, which exists for 3 hours in the afternoon of each June day, roughly. I got a traumatizing wax at a student rate in September, at a “salon” found in a jet-lag haze, so for the summer trim I wanted an actual recommendation. On the floor below me at Trinity live two girls from a posh area, so I figured they would know.
The first girl said she didn’t know of any good local spots, she’s too broke for a wax herself. This checks out, as she’s training to be a social worker, like myself.
The second girl said she didn’t know of any good local spots because she’s never needed a wax, personally, but her friends like Late Nite Beauty Salon off Temple Bar. This also checked out: this girl is very fair, fairly hairless, and also suffers from what my Northside cousins call “D2 syndrome”, which we don’t have room to discuss here.
The Salon was almost impossible to find as I wandered around Temple Bar, which I knew meant it would be very good. The best wax place in Los Angeles is the unadvertised back room of my childhood nail salon. Late Nite Beauty Salon has a similar, comforting aura of gossip, sanitizer, bravery, lavender oil. As a ginger rights activist and noted fainter, I give the Salon 5 out of 5 red stars. The intelligent and beautiful waxing lady was compassionate, encouraging. At one point, as I clutched my evil eye necklace (Jewish rosary) for strength with my other arm flung over my forehead, I swore to the waxing lady that I could probably just do that last part at home? And she replied: Rhiannon, it’s just a few seconds. Breathe out.
And it was! Let that be the lesson for all prospective graduate students, and people whose genetic heritage prepared them for deep winters more than sunshine. Whatever’s happening, there is an end to it. Also, you might be allergic to the liquid wax, so take an antihistamine and exfoliate a bit beforehand. When it’s all actually over, and you’ve wept to friends, family, medical professionals, academic advisors, God, strangers, various birds, children’s films, and the sea, you’ll have a thesis and really smooth legs. Remember to breathe in, and then out. Eat what you can, when you can. Sleep, or at least put yourself in bed. Fresh air, filtered water. Sunshine, in the morning and evening. Good luck! Don’t forget to tip!