Article on vajazzling for G3 Magazine March 2011.
Vajazzling, noun, a non-permanent beautification of the vagina achieved by applying gems to one’s waxed peach at a beauty salon or by way of a home fix kit. That’s what the Oxford English Dictionary might say, but there’s currently a lacklustre gap between ‘vainglorious’ and ‘valance’.
Though people have undoubtedly been sticking things to their bits since the invention of glue, the phrase itself was only coined in recent years. The practice has since gained popularity in the US when Jennifer Love Hewitt declared on national TV: “I love to vajazzle my vajayjay”, and in the UK when the practice was aired on The Only Way Is Essex. These high-profile appearances aside, two questions seemed to be on the mind of the populous at large: where can you get this done, and why, oh why, would you do it? Unable to overcome my fear of the procedure, I recruited Billy Laser, 27, Client Relations Executive by day, lapdancer by night, to reveal vajazzling’s hidden gems.
Finding a salon wasn’t exactly easy. Google only found forums full of confused women, half of them asking “where” the other half asking “why?”. Only one woman was able to boast: “I finally got one! My vagina looks like it’s been designed by a seven-year-old!” Undeterred, I picked up the phone and called Soho’s salons individually. After a few disdainful “we don’t do that heres”, we finally arrived at a 7pm appointment with Abbie McCann, 32, of Cucumba Salon.
The first step was to choose from the usual suspects found in tattoo parlours and nail salons: butterfly, dragonfly, raindrop, star or galactic swirl. “That one,” said Laser, choosing the dragonfly. After a quick pluck and wax to ensure she really was “bald as a coot” it was time for the positioning. “It should be at an angle,” Billy requested, “to imitate nature and capture it in flight.” Abbie adjusted accordingly and applied the stones much like a transfer. She pressed firmly, removed the film, and in no time at all Billy Laser’s snatch was all aglow with refracted light. The effect was surprising: the Swarovski crystals were delicate and beautiful, and the final result wasn’t downright nasty but almost classy. I found myself disturbingly jealous. I’d been imagining cheap gel gems, glue guns and painstaking application with metallic utensils. None of that. No mess, no fuss, just jazzle. We paid our rather reasonable £13.50 (if you do the waxing yourself) and were soon in the pub showing it off.
The dragonfly, we were told, would have a lifecycle of one week, during which you are allowed to wash but advised to pat dry. Abbie did mention that engaging in some sexual positions may be potentially hazardous. “It’s best to go on top, or you’ll be finding little crystals everywhere,” she warned. Seventy-two hours after application and Billy’s partner had still not reported contracting any STCs (sexually transmitted crystals). “I’ve had loads of showers and steamy sessions, and only one’s fallen off so far,” Ms Laser claimed.
Having discovered what vajazzling entailed and where you could get it done I was still at a bit of a loss as to why anyone would; it’s not like many people get to see it, unless you do happen to be a lapdancer. Then I saw Billy bounding back from the pub bathroom for the fifth time, her face almost as radiant as her ladygarden. “I love taking a wee and watching it sparkle,” she beamed. Days later and the effects have yet to fade, her Twitter update proudly boasting: “I twinkle when I tinkle #vajazzle.” So, if you’re having a bad day, get along to the salon and put a smile on both your faces.