Talk to any working woman of any age and she’ll almost certainly say that her skin could use a little help here and there. You know, a lift – a boost – a sheen – a cream – whatever. And for almost any cost.
But no matter how much the new “live snail facial” craze in Japan is said to help repair the skin and boost a person’s overall physical appearance, I’m one chick who is right now declaring, No freakin’ way.
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I don’t like bugs crawling across my skin. So the idea that I would willingly lie flat on a spa table wrapped in luxurious white robes pretending to look calm and carefree while three or more live snails shimmy their way across my face leaving Lord-knows-what-sort-of-slime behind is anathema.
The pricey $243 treatment is known as the Celebrity Escargot Course. Snails fed a diet of organic vegetables and supposedly kept “clean” and “healthy” are placed on the face and allowed to crawl unfettered across the cheeks, forehead, nose and chin – leaving behind “a beauty-boosting cocktail of proteins, antioxidants and hyaluronic acid,” according to The Telegraph, which sent a reporter to test the treatment. (Ugh.)
The snail “crawl,” though, is just one part of the 60-minute beauty package. After the disgusting creatures are allowed to do their thing, along comes a series of massages, masks and electrical pulse machines to help beautify and repair the skin.
The fact that all of this facial frou frou takes place under the watchful eye of a trained “therapist” doesn’t make me feel any better about it.
Snail-mucus-based products and treatments are apparently the biggest beauty rage (there’s one cream innocuously called Lift Keep Cream – no obvious “snail” here). These snail face creams, serums and masks have “surged” in popularity in Japan and South Korea.
But I don’t care if they make you look 10 or 20 years younger. I don’t care if they wipe away every nook and cranny on a working woman’s face.
I don’t care if they’re “exotic,” an “elixir,” restorative, restful, refreshing or anything else.
The only place I want to see snails is in a fabulous French restaurant, on a plate in front of me, beautifully cooked with garlic, butter, thyme, parsley, wine, pine nuts or anything else that makes them appear delicious, appetizing and highly desirable.
Sure, I’ll take the snails – in a form that’s the furthest thing from “icky” that money can buy.
