So, I went to see the ‘Eyebrow King’ about the two attached to my face.
This is my story.
I am on a couple of weeks’ annual leave at the moment to do ‘wedding stuff’. I’m a week into it and have done nothing except watch Farmer Wants a Wife and Don’t Tell the Bride.
Anyway, I heard about this guy who is ‘the guy’ when it comes to eyebrows. Word was on the street, like this enigma, a dealer of pretty peepers, a face-framer extraordinaire.
Even mum had ‘heard’ of him.
Rumours say you can’t get an appointment for months.
So I emailed, and gave him my two-week window and said for him to pick a day and time that suited him.
The deal was done.
There was a stipulation – as I was a new customer, it was $70, to be paid in full at least the day before the session.
He’s gotta be good.
In the days leading up to seeing ‘The King’, I received no less than three text messages and two reminder phone calls about the appointment. Overkill? Maybe, but I had already pre-paid. I was going to be at that appointment.
So I arrive one blustery morning and walked into the salon.
I was greeted by a friendly girl (with great brows) at the counter, in a reception area that was no bigger than bathroom (taking into consideration my entire apartment is 44sqm).
The King was there too. I couldn’t look him in the eye. It was a combination of being super-nervous (he was the only king I had ever met) and I literally couldn’t see as my eyebrows had taken on such a lustrous length.
I was taken into the next room, which was double the size of the reception but still pretty compact.
When you get any kind of waxing done, you’re in a salon room by yourself with one, sometimes two, beauticians. I say two, as I stupidly said OK to having a beautician work on each of my legs to get it all done in half the time. I walked out of there like John Wayne.
This room looked like a really groovy dental surgery.
There were three chairs, each with a little chandelier above them (super cute) told me that I wasn’t going to have the room to myself.
Ordinarily, I’d just take my shoes off and plonk myself on the beautician’s couch, tell them that my brows need a little clean up, yes I get the tops done and they might need a little trim too. Then launch into what I would be getting up to that coming weekend.
I sat down on the chair that started to whir and, just like a dentist chair, it lifted me slightly back and up.
I shut my eyes and waited for the usual conversation to start.
No conversation. Except a mention that he would like to tint my brows and that he errs on the side of thicker brows, not thin. I sagely nodded OK.
The King got straight to work. Shaping my eyebrows like a champion. While I sat back thinking ‘oh god, he’s judging me and my Wolfman Jack eyebrows’.
Next thing I know, I could hear another customer come in and take a seat. She was whirred into place by the chair.
That’s when The King tagged teamed with the other eyebrow lady.
He started work on the other person while the eyebrow (princess?) started to tweeze.
Holy bee sting Batman. While I don’t mind a satisfying tweeze here and there, the Princess was a tweezing machine. I could take it in perhaps 5-second bursts, but it was relentless. My foot started to bend uncomfortably and I could feel the tears welling.
Then it was over.
Then I startled myself my thinking ‘shit, she still has the other eyebrow to do’.
Then the King tagged back on to me to do the second eyebrow.
He showed me the first eyebrow and I almost freaked right out. I think he heard my internal scream and said ‘oh don’t worry, that’s the tint, it won’t be that dark, I promise’.
Thank baby Jesus. I couldn’t remember agreeing to the Groucho Marx special.
More shaping, more tweezing.
We were done.
It’s always stressful looking into the mirror after trusting a beauty professional with something so personal.
Especially when it’s eyebrows. I mean if it were too thin for my liking, what were they going to do? Sellotape them back on?
I looked in the mirror. They looked neat and tidy. Symmetrical.
I really liked them. I was disappointed that they weren’t slightly heavier, but only slightly.
While he did a wonderful job, I should’ve let the title of ‘The King’ proceed him and to actually talk to him about exactly what I wanted. I mean, I’m the one who parted $70 over it (and consequently now have $5.55 to last me until I’m paid next).
His idea of a heavier brow wasn’t exactly my idea of one. Mind you, I was thinking a little too much of Brooke Shields.
If you’re thinking about giving ‘The King’ a spin, do it. It’s a real experience to get your brows done by a professional. Espesh when it’s all they do.
I made a follow-up appointment. I feel as though I’m running out of time to get brow perfection by the due date and Im keeping my options open.
If I get brow cold feet with ‘The King’, there’s always my Armenian threading lady that has no idea she’s known to me as ‘The Messiah’.