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.
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