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| - Does your esthetician have amazing skin, a personality that just dances with effervescence, incredible taste in decor and music, AND a magic touch that can erase every iota of worry from your skin? Oh, sorry - mine does.
But I love sharing, so sit tight and I'll tell you all about her. Another barburning, character-limit-testing review coming your way. I only reserve these excruciatingly detailed reviews for my "10 star" favourites, and Darling Spa is naturally one of them.
Come here for a facial to end all facials. I was blissed out, woozy and teetering like a daytime lush when I walked out after my 90 minutes of magic.
Leslie Ferranti was my esthetician at Camden Spa and when I heard that she was opening her own shop I audibly squealed with both terror and glee. Terror because I could already hear my debit card groaning in anticipation of future overuse (how could I NOT get a facial, waxing and other treatments every month??) and glee because, well, read on...
You won't find Darling Spa noisily beckoning you inside its doors with sandwich board specials or assaulting you with flyers while you shop on Queen Street West. No, you'll find out about Darling Spa from your friends (the ones that truly love you and don't mind sharing their secret to great skin!) and fellow yelpers, because it's quietly tucked away in a building on Maud Street just south of Queen & Augusta. Once inside, you'll start making mental notes of every inch of space for future home decor projects. Leslie's got great taste in furniture and accoutrements - beautiful light grey walls accented by white furniture and black bits of art and other accessories.
The guest washroom is perhaps better appointed than even my own, with a host of products and thoughtful touches that make you feel right at home - dental floss, feminine products, tissues, makeup remover, wet wipes, the lot. The treatment room and main space are equally beautiful and relaxing. I almost fell asleep during a leg wax, for crying out loud.
So, about the waxing. As expected, it's quick, professional and affordable. I have a high tolerance for pain but it wasn't called upon here as Leslie is a fast worker and kept my mind busy with interesting conversation and really great music as a soundtrack. Who wouldn't love getting their legs waxed to the tune of "I Love NYE" by Badly Drawn Boy and "Sexy Boy" by Air? I left hairless and with nary a skin irritation in sight. I'll be back in four weeks.
The star of the show here is the signature facial. As previously mentioned, it's the facial to end all facials and I think I drunkenly declared those very words to those in the waiting room (can't remember, I was in a state of confusion when I emerged from the treatment room. Imagine waking from a century long cryogenic slumber and you'll know what I was dealing with here). If you love yourself (and you should!) you'll come here regularly for this absolute treat. Leslie herself has incredible skin (try not to stare), which is a lovely testament to her expertise and support of the dermal advice she dispenses. Nothing worse than getting worked on by someone who doesn't practice what they preach, right?
It feels weird describing a 90 minute orgasm, but I'll try.
Leslie knew exactly what she was getting into with my skin from my days as a client at the other spa, so she went straight to work. I openly accepted a series of hot towels, fine mists, foaming treatments, fruit enzyme scrubs, masks and cold creams (all by Dermalogica) on my cranky and grateful skin. I don't think I even winced during extraction, and there was lots of it to be done. Then came a series of massages, which is about when I had to seriously stop myself from audibly voicing my extreme pleasure. Apparently Leslie also fancies herself a Registered Massage Therapist?! WHO KNEW? Honestly the best massage I've ever had**. I sleep on my stomach and have notoriously tight neck and shoulder muscles. The three-pronged attack of arm/hand, neck/shoulders and then scalp massage nearly turned me into a puddle. OK, I have to stop writing about this now, go lie down and stare longingly at the square on my calendar that marks our next facial date.
Now stop reading. GO!
**shh, don't tell my RMT
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