Photo Credit: ibizatansalon.com
After a cruel winter, certainly in New York, my mind has turned to faux tans. Let me talk you through a Grimm tale of—paid for—tanning at Beach Bum Tanning in Chelsea, New York. I went with my friend Kathleen and after waiting half an hour, I was up first. In the room, I asked for some wipes to take off my deodorant and makeup. The tanning lady looked at me like I was speaking in a dialect from Lapland. There were no wipes. Apparently no-one ever comes with makeup or deodorant, something I can safely dispute with Kathleen sitting outside with makeup and, as she—thankfully—confirmed later, deodorant.
I knew the tan wouldn’t go on properly on top of makeup. In fact, the tanner a
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