Of all the borderline perverse things I do in the name of titification, nose hair waxing is the most X rated of them all. Partly because it’s really quite obscure (as all proper perversions should be). I first got into it a good 15 years ago, after reading a novel set in a swanky New York situation, in which, the glossy heroine got her nostrils waxed in the name of being glossier yet. “I wanna be glossier yet!” I thought. “I shall wax me nose hair too!” And so I did; then waited confidently for everyone else to catch on and copy me (like that time I was the first person I knew to get a Brazilian). But, for some reason, on this occasion, they did not.
Nose hair waxing is also the most X rated of all the things I do, because the process is one of those utterly-gross-yet-simultaneously-utterly-satisfying experiences, up there with spot-squeezing.
My current nostril waxer of choice is Waxcat in Kentish Town, North London. I go there on the basis that it’s good and very close to where I live. I’d estimate that 50% of your standard issue beauty salons will perform the nose wax procedure if asked. Here’s how it happens: your waxer person, who will probably be a woman – I’m sure there are male waxers in the world, but I’ve yet to encounter one – will ask you to sit upright on her couch while she dips a lollistick-like piece of disposable wooden kit into a bowl of molten cosmetic wax. She’ll twirl it round and round, candy floss stylee, until a dollop of wax adheres to its tip. She’ll then stick the wax-tipped stick about a third of a way up one of your nostrils, asking you to press against the other while she does it, in the interest of steadiness. (At this point, you’ll need to start breathing through your mouth, to avoid death.)
How does it feel? Weird and somewhat intrusive, but not remotely painful. The wax will be a comforting level of warm, and will cool to body temp over the next two to three minutes your waxer bids you leave it inserted. Once that time is up, and the wax is set, the removal will happen. This is obviously the grand finale, and the faintly terrifying bit. You waxer grips the free end of the wax tipped lollipop stick which now dangles mere inches beneath your nose, she twists and she yanks… And the stick is released, newly bristling with nose hairs! This is the gross-yet-satisfying part.
After which, she’ll do the other nostril.
Does it hurt? A little, but nowhere near as much as you might anticipate. The rabid eye-watering sting of pulling out individual nostril hairs is much, much worse, for some reason. By way of pain comparison: waxing your top lip or eyebrow hurts at least as much as this - and probably more. How long does it last? Months. I get mine redone two or three times a year, at most. Nose hairs don’t grow quick, it seems. And is it worth it? I think so! I mean, it brings a certain ultra level of neatness to proceedings; and it’s one less thing to worry about. Assuming you were worrying about it at all, which you might not have been, though I suspect you are now. I’ve noticed that every time I tell anyone I nose wax, they go through this whole emotional journey in front of my very eyes. It starts with “But why would you do that?”, slides on to “Do you actually need to do that?” (accompanied by a not-as-sneaky-as-they-hope attempt to look right up my nose and asses it’s inner hairiness) and ends with “BUT DO I NEED TO DO THAT? I DO, DON’T I?”. To which, I respond with a non-committal shrug, before slipping away and leaving them to their rapidly accumulating anxiety, because I know how to have a good time.
Would I pay for it myself?
Yes, and I do. It cost around £15 a pop, before tip