Meant to be performed a week after waxing, the 50-minute treatment ($60) involves four steps. First, skin is cleansed with an antibacterial body wash and witch hazel. Then, a papaya-based exfoliating gel goes on before the esthetician extracts ingrown hairs. After that, an anti-freckle, anti-acne, or calming mask is applied. It finishes off with an application of lightening cream. (Unless the esthetician plans to put a mask on a client's vaginal walls, shouldn't this treatment be called the Vulvacial?)
Oh, where to begin? Lots to say on this one, so read more.
I know the Vajacial is supposed to be a fun girly thing, but it is unnecessary. Ingrown hairs are annoying, yes, but a little Tend Skin can help with that. Every ob-gyn I've known has said that gentle soap and water are all you need for proper hygiene, and the vagina naturally creates its own pH balance. Plus, I'm not crazy about the idea of applying so many products. Exfoliating enzyme peels are tingly on the face, so I can only imagine how they might feel on the most sensitive skin — and there's no way a lightening cream is getting near my business.
We've seen a long, ugly history of implying that girl parts are inherently dirty or gross. (Lysol ads once encouraged women to "disinfect" their genitals.) Obviously, the Vajacial doesn't intend to create shame, but its very existence could unintentionally foment even more anxiety and insecurity around what women's nether regions "should" look like. The treatment aims to address issues like freckling or skin color variance, but here's the thing: those aren't problems. They're normal.
Look, I'm not anti-waxing as a rule; in fact, I used to get great waxes at Stript. But despite the Vajacial's frothy girliness, it doesn't sound like much fun. Instead, it seems like more grooming minutiae to obsess over, when women have more important things to do with our time, money, and bodies.
(While you're at it, check out our top five pubic-grooming offenders.)
Source: Flickr User love♡janine