5 Thoughts Every Dude Will Have During Their First Macial
1. It’s not as Hannibal Lecter-y as it sounds
Full disclosure up front. I am not, nor have I have ever been, overly familiar with beauty treatments.
The first time someone gave me a bath bomb I thought it was edible. There was one ‘incident’ where a back wax turned into a back, sack and crack wax (true story, please don’t ask). And let’s all politely forget the time I was encouraged to get a full body spray tan and it all went a bit like this:
So when our esteemed Style Editor @lindsfoley offered me the opportunity to go and experience my first ever ‘macial’ (a non-NSFW ‘man facial’, for the uninitiated), I found it too intriguing (and Linds’ too potentially hilarious) to pass up. These are the rambling, sporadically terrified thoughts of a man’s attempt to facial.
N00bs need not be afraid
Like anyone trying something for the first time, I was mildly anxious of the experience to come. What if they told me my face was broken? What if I ended up looking that cat-face-lady?
From the moment I walked into Paul Edmonds’ Knightsbridge salon, I felt decidedly looked after. Everything looks nice. Everything smells nice. Everything probably tastes nice.
My beauty technician/look-after-er, Sunita, sat me down, talked me through the differences between cleansing, exfoliating and moisturising, and proceeded to rub an array of smelly lotions onto my face.
It’s basically Terminator for your face
Then things went surprisingly hi-tech. I leaned into a sleek, white, Elysium-style machine and had a black curtain draped over my head. Much to my dismay, it transpired that we weren’t creating a budget version of Sia’s ‘Clap Your Hands’ video.
Instead, a plugged-in iPhone took a number of preposterously close-up photos of my face, which revealed skin blemishes and sun damage I’d never even twigged was there.
Light treatment WTF
Next up, I went into another mood-lighting-strewn room with a futuristic, clinically sci-fi machine standing in the centre. I had red, blue and infrared lights beamed onto my face like I was in a very, very chilled out rave.
Apparently the lights penetrate the skin and help slow the growth of affected skin cells. It just made me want to fall asleep.
Extractions can do one
That is, until I was introduced to extractions, AKA ‘Oh-Gawd-what-are-you-doing-stop-attacking-me’. PTSD flashbacks to being an 11-year-old struggling to squeeze blackheads off my gormless mug ahoy!
It’s not as Hannibal Lecter-y as it sounds
My beauty therapist told me early on that she “just loves skin” and starting chatting about ‘peeling my face’. Considering I’d been watching The Walking Dead the night before, my brain immediately went to places that were a tad Cannibalism-y.
Thankfully, as my newly fresh and decidedly still attached skin can attest, the whole process is basically just a hug-bath for your face. MORE PLS.
Skinceutical facials start from £50, and you can find out more about Paul Edmonds here.