Sometime earlier this summer, somewhere in the nooks and crannies of Soho, I was invited to a salon called The Golden Touch. No, not a ‘massage’ parlour, though I did have a happy ending, of sorts. The Golden Touch was run by the very lovely, very bubbly Hannah Salisbury, an Aussie who has a wealth of experience in intimate waxing. She has been head of the training school of the same name for some time, and has built up an excellent reputation teaching therapists in the London area.
I am by no means a wax aficionado. (Make of that what you will). Previous memories of being waxed involved being taken down into a scary basement, with sullen, silent women essentially pouring lava onto my dainty areas and ripping them to pieces mercilessly. Safe to say I didn’t go back for a while (years). Waxing is punishment enough without it being medieval. So, thankfully, Hannah welcomed me into her salon with open arms and put me at ease.
She left me alone to freshen up before taking me into a small room with the radio playing. She explained the process of waxing to me and why hot wax is the best way of waxing in order to minimise pain and reduce regrowth. Throughout the wax she kindly talked me through what she was doing whilst giving me helpful advice about aftercare, as well as friendly chatter between us about our days/lives/etc. The wax itself, she admitted, is never going to be the most comfortable experience in the world (why lie?), but she did her absolute best to minimise the discomfort, and I genuinely can say that it was a world away from my previous experiences. I felt safe, relaxed, and in experienced hands (which is all anyone wants down there, obviously). The results were great and, with Hannah’s advice, lasted a long time.