BEAUTY Skin

Baby’s First Facial – and Earth Day Challenge

Written by Steph

I went to the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Columbus Circle to get my facial on. Located on the 35th floor, the spa is seriously chic – the kind of place where you can’t help but feel like Aladdin. Minus the tan. I know, it sounds pretty dark. But the staff was wholly unpretentious and the entire experience was designed to ease you into an ethereal state pre-treatment. I skipped out on the Relaxation Room and the steam room and the hot tub (until post-facial) because I was glued to my BlackBerry and getting love-drunk off of dried apricots. Once my facial was over, I was like “Blackberry who? Is that something I can eat? Do you rub it on my face?”

Yesterday, I found myself at a shopping mall Chili’s (I was visiting my parents in the suburbs – DON’T JUDGE ME) slamming down Shock Tops as my brother shopped a few floors below. “I’m paying for this and leaving. Need to… find something to eat. Text me when you’re done,” I told him as I bolted away to purchase a gift for my dad and find the closest beer dispensary. We had definitely muddled up those gender lines – something I find myself doing constantly. I’m so not butch. I just never, ever pamper myself. It should surprise no one that, at the ripe ol’ age of 24, I had my first facial last week. Yes, I made it almost halfway to fifty without ever experiencing a facial. I am the worst chick ever.

I went to the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Columbus Circle to get my facial on. Located on the 35th floor, the spa is seriously chic – the kind of place where you can’t help but feel like Aladdin. Minus the tan. I know, it sounds pretty dark. But the staff was wholly unpretentious and the entire experience was designed to ease you into an ethereal state pre-treatment. I skipped out on the Relaxation Room and the steam room and the hot tub (until post-facial) because I was glued to my BlackBerry and getting love-drunk off of dried apricots. Once my facial was over, I was like “Blackberry who? Is that something I can eat? Do you rub it on my face?”

My esthetician, Patricia, was absolutely perfect. I told her about my skin (oily T-zone, jacked up U-zone) and we decided on the Blue Lotus purifying facial by Amala. Amala uses high potency organic plants in all of their products, so there’s no pesticides coming into contact with your face. Which is good, because I’d imagine the point of having a facial is to cleanse your skin; not to pour a bunch of clogging, unnatural kill-spray on it. Last time I checked, I’m not an insect.

The Blue Lotus line is helpful in controlling excess oil and shine (yes please), clearing clogged pores (live in Brooklyn a block away from the subway, HULLO), and heal and prevent blemishes and blackheads (I had a phantom blemish that seems to have taken up perma-residence on my face, we’ll see what happens). Because Patricia knew it was MY FIRST TIME, she was very gentle when extracting… whatever was clogging my pores. I try not to think about it. Anyway, I was nervous about the extraction because I’ve seen friends post-facial who look like their skin was going through PTSD, and while I may not splurge on pampering 24-7, I’m still as vain as they come. My face should never, ever resemble a sausage link.

When all was said and done, my face was softer than a baby’s ass (really, babies have ass blemishes too, sometimes, their asses aren’t perfect; but my face was). I was loose and relaxed for the first time in… well, whenever the last time I took Xanax was. Probably on a flight. Patricia told me that my skin boded well with natural products, which made me feel good and like I might not need Botox when I’m older. I felt like a new woman. Shortly thereafter, Amala challenged me to use the Blue Lotus line – and only the Blue Lotus line, on my skin for the month of April. It is unofficially Earth Month, after all.  Of course, I took them up on the offer – Blue Lotus smells like heaven, and it allows me to have flashbacks of Patricia’s remarkable handiwork (which made me question if I should solely consider masseuses and/or estheticians as future lovers). Plus, if I win the challenge, Amala agreed to send me on an all-expenses paid trip to Prague! Right…? Amala…? Where are you going? Wait up!

All services and products provided by Amala. All opinions belong to the author. No monetary compensation was received for this review.

About the author

Steph

a born-and-bred Brooklyn brunette prone to excessive alliteration. Follow her on Twitter @omgstephlol. Read more here.

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