I love a good facial! So much so that I advocate for them regularly as part of your skin maintenance, rather than just something to be saved for special occasions.
I read a study once that for the life of me I can’t find to properly reference now, but the gist of it was that the ‘average woman’ (excuse me? We’re all ‘f***ing spectacular’ thanks) had approximately three facials in her lifetime - with her engagement and wedding stealing most of them.
I have two main requirements when it comes to getting a facial, with the first being "Pls don’t try to sell me stuff". I’m not shy about showing up, explaining that this is the first scrap of 'me' time away from the ratbag kids I’ve had in months and politely requesting no sales pitch.
Watch: What does a 'Carbon Facial' look like? Amy Clark finds out. Post continues below.
The second is: "Come on love, get in there". I want to be abraded, extracted, basted with acid. If it involves needles, numbing agents, and pore-squeezes so sharp they bring a tear to my eye, GOOD. Fanny-ing around with gentle puffs of steam and a jade roller while Enya plays quietly in the background - can do that at home. Minus the Enya, obviously.