Says the New York Post, "women are strangely bonded to the beauticians who wax their Brazilians." Well, yeah, seeing as those beauticians are kinda bonded to our vaginas with hot wax!
But, okay, the bond is more than that. The piece goes on to relate the intense bonds women form with their waxers; several describe them in terms of second mothers. "She's a bit like a second mom, always giving advice and asking how things are with my business and love life," says one and "I look at mine as a mother without the baggage," adds a second. One woman actually says that it was her Brazilian waxer who "made me realize how two women, complete strangers, can be nice to each other without all the catty drama." (No word on whether the professionals in question regard these women as surrogate daughters.)
One of the technicians in the piece takes credit — along with the Brazilian — for giving Gwyneth Paltrow the confidence to nourish her inner aspect.
She used to be head-down shy, and you can see how beautiful she is. I said to her, ‘You have to know what you have inside, because outside you know how beautiful you are. Put your nose up. Put your head up. And I think this made a big difference to her to change her life.'
Or, at the very least, her pubic hair.
While I fully understand the need to like, trust and respect the women who pull hair out by the roots from some of the most tender and private parts of your anatomy, this so-called bonding seems like a strange "phenomenon." Yes, people get close. But "a second mother?" What's with the repeated use of this maternal theme? How often do these women get waxed? I like to think I have a cordial relationship with my aesthetician: we know about each other's families, jobs, neighborhoods, etc. And I know she has a lot of clients. But let's face it: there's something inherently strange — and discomfiting — about making someone else deal with something so private. Yes, even if they're pros and you're paying for it. Like getting a pedicure, it can make you feel...uncomfortable. It's a new, intimate world of services we're navigating here, which marries societal expectation to ideological conviction in a troublesome and uncomfy way. Though the experience could be much less awkward if a "mother," a friend, a confidant were doing the work. And I wonder, as much as the genuine phenomenon of bonding with a professional you like — and of course I believe that's real — there's also another phenomenon, that of casting in oddly close terms a relationship which is essentially a business one, which can make recipients, alive to the nuances of class and inequality, feel uneasy. I would be more convinced had the beauticians expressed the same kind of gushing feelings — perhaps as professionals more at ease with these intimate transactions, in some ways they don't feel the need to.