I Had a Vajacial


You read that right: V-A-J-A-C-I-A-L. It’s exactly what you think it is. A facial for your beloved private parts. In other words, it’s pampering time for your chacha or pure luxury for your Holy Grail.

As a girl who NEVER gets manicures nor facials and whose last waxing session goes back to a trip to Amsterdam two years ago, a vajacial is, in my case, the absolute self-care experience.

So, how did I get myself into this? It all started when I received an invitation to try out a service of my choice at Fuzz Wax Bar. The waxing Mecca, which already has four locations in Toronto, opened its first Montreal salon last summer.

Jessie Frampton and Florence Gaven-Rossavik had a very specific goal when they started their company in 2012: wax men and women in the most professional way possible, from toe to moustache, in the blink of an eye. For waxing fans, you can even pay a monthly subscription and enjoy a hair-free body without breaking your piggy bank.


So when I received the invite, I sat down in front of my computer and scrolled down through my options. Get my calves waxed? Meh. My armpits? Not sure. My eyebrows? Nah. It just didn’t really feel inspiring enough for a blog post. A vajacial on the other hand!!! After laughing for a good 10 minutes with my sisters trying to figure out what it was about, I finally found out that it was a treatment given between two waxing sessions. What for? To prevent and treat ingrown hair and spoil your damsel while you’re at it.

Because I wanted to experience the vajacial the real way, I got waxed right before my trip to Japan. An appointment which, by the way, went incredibly smoothly (haha). The atmosphere was welcoming, the decor was pristine and my technician was the ideal balance of friendly and professional. There was even a Spotify playlist to mute my stealthy “ouch”. And if you get lucky like I did, Started From The Bottom by Drake might even play while you get your crotch groomed. Finally — and most importantly — I was out in 20 minutes sharp.

Two weeks later, back from Japan and seriously jet-lagged, I was ready for my long awaited moment: my vajacial. Pam-pam-pam!!! Heading to the Fuzz Wax Bar almost felt like I was going to a gynaecological appointment for the rich and famous.

Obviously, it was a hundred times more enjoyable than a gynaecological exam. I’d even say that it was… vajamazing! (Sorry, I had to.)

Where everything happens.

The first step was to clean the area with anti-bacterial towelettes which was then followed by a scrub. To those who thought exfoliation was exclusively made for your face, I’ve got news for you! And I don’t want to hear you say “my crotch is already super soft!”. Let me tell you, there’s “soft” and “soooooft”.

After exfoliating, it was time for the not-so-relaxing part: the extraction of ingrown hair. Personally, it wasn’t to chaotic down there, so everything went rather quickly and painlessly. The technician then sterilized and treated the most rebellious hair with a high frequency wand. If you’ve had a regular facial in the past, you might know what it’s about — it feels like itsy bitsy electrical shocks. It’s more surprising than painful, but still… It’s not the most enjoyable thing on earth. Thank God a soothing mask was waiting for me.

With my legs placed in a diamond shape, I was left all alone for 10 minutes while waiting for the mask to do its magic. (By the way, it’s called the V-mask if ever you want to buy it and try it at home ;) It was also plenty of time for me to realize how absurd this situation was and how much I wanted to burst into laughing! I sleep barely six hours a night, I get a haircut every four months and I’ve never had one pedicure in my whole life. But there I was, giving a royal treatment to my princess! But at the same time, why not? It’s a treatment like any other. When you think about it, it’s a bit like lingerie; it’s like secret coquetry.

As soon as my butt started cramping, my technician came back to save me from my vajembarrassing discomfort (sorry, I had to, again.). The last step? She removed the mask and applied a moisturizer. I must admit that I was a bit puzzled when she asked me if I preferred lavender or vanilla; it felt like my choice of fragrance would officially define my crotch’s personality, something I had never thought about before. A concern of the utmost importance, I know.

Barely half an hour later after stepping into the salon, I walked out, softer than ever, relatively relaxed considering the circumstances, and left a subtle scent of cupcakes behind me.

Vajacial: 40$ for members | 50 $ for non-members | fuzzwaxbar.com

Have you ever had a vajacial? Would you get one?

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