Less hair, less pain
This time of year — when shorts and beach weather are near — the razors, depilatory creams and hot wax get pulled out for a little spring cleaning on the body. In 1792, philosopher Mary Wollstonecraft complained that women, “confined in cages like the feathered race . . . have nothing to do but to plume themselves, and stalk with mock majesty from perch to perch.”
Feminists in the 1960s and ’70s labelled shaving a symbol of oppression of a woman’s libido and self-expression.
I ponder this, crouched on the edge of my tub as I slap a dollop of burning hot goop on my calf and smooth a cloth strip over it. Rub, count to 25. Grab and pull back in a swift upward motion. Except I hesitate and tug off the stubble-laden strip. Dots of blood form on my red, bare skin and I start to cry a little. OUCH!
Hair removal is a painful, politically indefensible, costly chore that I keep threatening to abandon. It remains a fashion indulgence that even the most forward-thinking women and men buy into, generating billions of dollars every year.
And as much as I’d like to rise above it, I will not give up having two eyebrows, bare underarms and wearing a bathing suit without feeling like a Sasquatch. It’s my body and I’ll plume if I want to.
On a mission to find longer-lasting and less traumatic methods of hair removal around town, I made a couple of satisfying discoveries.
It started when a close friend told me she was getting laser hair removal. From anyone else this would have been forgettable. But this friend is the biggest hippie I know. She has not shaved her underarms or legs for years. However, her bikini line was the breaking point.
She invested about $200 for each of the six to eight treatments it takes to be rid of the hair. But when a nearby clinic offered a package deal last fall for about 25 per cent less, I went for it.
On my first visit to the Adora Skin Laser Clinic (772 Bay St.), I have only two concerns: Pain and effectiveness.
The first is addressed with a $40 tube of numbing cream and an ice pack. The second, my laser technician says, depends on the individual, and permanent hair removal is not guaranteed.
“We call it permanent hair reduction,” says Vicky Etchells, whose friendly English accent soothes as she fires up her laser machine and passes me a pair of protective eyeglasses.
“If you think of it as a forest, each time you come for a visit, the laser will destroy 15 to 20 per cent of hair. Selective logging,” she later tells me.
The laser works by damaging hair follicles with a wave of light transmitted through gun-like hand piece. It works best on light skin with dark hair.
While some clinics might claim it is a pain-free alternative to electrolysis or waxing, this is not my experience.
As Etchells glides her gun along my thigh, each zap feels like a hot pinprick, and the smell of burning hair fills the room.
This is a small unpleasantness compared to the long, stinky process of using depilatory creams or painful, messy self-waxing. And it’s quick. My treatments are down to 15 minutes and the results are good.
Etchells, also an esthetician who spent years waxing and teaching how to wax, says laser hair removal has been a blessing for people who have had persistent hair growth in unusual places.
“I’ve had women with a full man’s growth beard cry because no one has been able to help them before,” she says. Excessive hair growth, or hirsutism, has become more prevalent among women, according to several studies, caused by an excess of androgen hormones linked to some oral contraceptives, anabolic steroids and high-insulin diets.
Etchells has also noticed a higher demand for more extreme hair removal. She’s seeing a majority of young women who want their pubic hair completely off and more men who want hair-free chests.
“When you open a magazine and look at these celebrities, that’s what they’re after,” says Etchells. “The media has a huge influence on the trends, but the results are permanent.”
My next stop on the ne’er-hair mission is the Sunrise Hair Salon and Tanning (3388 Douglas St.). Several Vancouver friends swear by the ancient Indian hair removal technique of threading, offered in every Little India salon along Fraser Street, but I’ve never seen it here. That’s because only a few people do it. I find Pavi Kaloti with a quick Google search.
“I was doing it from home for a long time,” says Kaloti, 32, who trained as an esthetician in India and opened her salon here about three years ago. She has her brother in India send her the pure cotton thread, and recently sponsored her younger sister Puneet Pabla, also a skilled henna artist, to come work with her. “Most of my clients are westerners. They like threading because it’s quick and better than waxing or plucking. Doesn’t irritate the skin.”
It’s also cheap. The first visit for eyebrow threading is $10. Regular follow-ups are only $5. Waxing at most salons in town is upwards of $25 each visit.
The best part: Kaloti includes a quick sweep of any rogue chin and upper lip hairs.
I bring a picture of Audrey Hepburn’s perfectly arched brows, seeing as I have a lot of brow to work with. Kaloti holds the thread between her hands like the Cat’s Cradle game kids play and has me hold my skin taught.
Kaloti uses the thread to make loops that catch and pull hair out from the root. Several hairs can be yanked out at once.
It takes her less than 10 minutes to twist and rip my eyebrows into two separate perfect crescent shapes. Threading hurts less than waxing or plucking but still stings — though not enough to keep me from becoming a convert. Tweezers be damned.
Source: Times Colonist



