In everything I say and do, I always strive to be completely and utterly “Reem”. For anyone who doesn’t know what “Reem” means, five little words will give you the explanation: The Only Way Is Essex. This little gem of a TV show has taught the British public – myself included – to love and cherish activities such as vajazzling, glamping and fake, on-cue crying. In honour of the cultural institution that is TOWIE, on Day 34 I indulged in another of the show’s famous pastimes: the Spray Tan.
My complexion isn’t exactly pale, and I’ve been known to indulge in a bit of bottled fake tan. However, this was my first all-over spray tan, a big commitment which doesn’t come cheap. For this, I made a visit to the Tanning Temple in Kentish Town, an apt name, given the almost deified status of beauty nowadays. I walked into the Temple and was met by a strong smell of hairspray and the unmistakable beat of a Girls Aloud hit. I was definitely in the right place.
I booked my tanning session and expected to have to wait for an available slot. Impressively, I was to be seen straight away. These girls may be fun and bubbly, but they sure know how to organize a schedule. My “beauty therapist” arrived and introduced herself as Amy – a fabulously appropriate name (again, TOWIE) – before leading me down a corridor to where our session was to take place. If everyone hadn’t been so friendly this might have been the moment I got a bit nervous, but fortunately I was too busy giggling with Amy. I expect she found the idea of me getting a tan as bewildering as I did.
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| Work it baby! |
I was shown a room in which to get changed. Changed? Into what? Amy said I could wear my boxers if I wanted (no thanks, I don’t want my pants to have brown stains on them, obviously), but recommended I might wear one of their paper thongs. ERM, YES! Thongs, as a rule, are always good for a laugh – especially if you can write on them. Designer underwear, literally. The other obligatory piece of clothing was a cloth shower cap. Needless to say, I looked like an absolute tool in my outfit. Kind of like a really kinky dinner lady. Miaow.
It was then time for my tan to begin. Amy ushered me into another room with what looked like a futuristic egg in it. This would be my cocoon for the tan. We then had the important discussion of shades: Amy recommended “chocolate”, the darkest. I told her the darker the better (in for a penny, in for a pound) and decided that this was preferable to the other option of “celebrity glow”. This just made me think of David Dickinson and, as much as I love Bargain Hunt, his “glow” isn’t exactly my cup of tea.
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| Where the magic happens |
Amy then began spraying. It felt odd having a cold mist all over my body. Certain more sensitive areas caused me to giggle, and after having my bum sprayed I now believe I know what those fancy Japanese bidets feel like. When the time came to have my face sprayed I instinctively screwed it up to prevent breathing in any of the liquid. Amy, in the sweetest possible way, told me this wasn’t really tanning etiquette, as my face would be covered with patchy white lines. Heaven forbid. I immediately relaxed my features, praying that the damage wasn’t already done.
The spray was quickly over and Amy then left me for 10 minutes to “dry off”. Standing all alone in front of the fan I felt slightly violated, as though Amy and I had just shared a special, intimate moment and now I’d been left without any morning cuddles. I somehow don’t think that would generally be included in the price though. Once my tan had been set, it was time to examine the results. Certain areas looked quite a bit darker, but there was nothing shocking. Perhaps this would take time to develop, like a photo. Or a rash. Ew. I guess I’d have to wait and see…
Day 34: The Only Way Is Tan. SHUT UP!
Peace & Love,
Rich xx
Edit: My tan very much did develop over time. Looking in the mirror the next day, I was almost blinded by the glow. And the tan lines of the paper thong are just hilarious. Total trend-setter.
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