There is a new mega-industry dedicated solely to the exfoliation, depilation, hydration and upkeep of men’s skin. It’s called “men’s grooming” (the word beauty is a no-no). And those who bottle the secret of eternal handsomeness can’t keep up with demand.
Everyone from Clinique (who were the first premium skincare brand to realise that no-nonsense grey packaging wouldn’t scare off the punters) to Nivea (the UK’s best-selling men’s skincare range) has created a “for men” collection, then sat back and listened as the cash registers rang like music to the ears. Even Head & Shoulders, that most practical, asexual and un-sexual of anti-dandruff shampoos, has felt the need to launch a version specifically for men.
“Men want to feel good and look good, and companies are now catering to that demand. They realise that men want their own products and don’t want to have to sneak bits of moisturiser from their partner,” says Linda Windsor, a market research analyst.
“But they also know that there is still a certain stigma attached to men and beauty products, so some are being re-launched and re- packaged so that men can feel comfortable about using them both at home and in the locker room. After all, most men now go to the gym and are interested in fashion and style, so this explosion in the men’s grooming industry is just a natural progression.”
The phenomenon also seems to have shaped an entire younger generation of good-looking, well-groomed, style-hungry, gym-defined lads who are quickly creating another phenomenon – fear and self- loathing amid us thirty- something non-groomers. Fear, because there’s no match for the allure of twentysomething youth; and self- loathing, because they are a cruel reminder that all there is to look forward to is a lifetime of nasal hair and wrinkles. (Still, you could always give in and embrace the future with www.nosetrimmers.com and regular injections of botulism.)
Seriously, though, judging by the number of bronzed men with facial-hair topiary (the R&B singer Craig David’s one lasting legacy), modern man looks as if he’s just stepped out from an episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Because in the strange, contrary dance between heterosexual and homosexual men (where, generally, style conscious straight men take the lead from their more “sophisticated” gay brothers, and gay men, in turn, may revert to a more “macho” stereotype), mirror-conscious straight men are buying into everything from expensive moisture-replenishing potions to hair-removal procedures.
Such is the anti-hirsute revolution that on 4 February the news broke that the entire Chelsea football squad had had their chests waxed before a match against Blackburn. Why? Does chest waxing (which, according to Windsor, is the most popular men’s treatment) make them more aerodynamic, more like David Beckham? Or is it just a case of Chelsea’s owner, the billionaire Roman Abramovitch, treating his players so that they look the part on the pitch? Even at my gym (working class in Rotherham, not club class in Soho) it’s difficult not to notice a distinct lack of pubic hair and a very un-Yorkshire increase in shorn chests and waxed eyebrows that could have given Marlene Dietrich a run for her money.
It follows, then, that with this renaissance of male narcissism comes the arrival of the male beauty parlour. If you can’t be bothered to do it yourself, why not let somebody else do it for you? Somewhere in between Jermyn Street’s traditional wet-shave and Soho’s “back, crack and sack” sugaring sessions, there’s The Refinery, London’s first one-stop grooming and spa experience exclusively for men.
Situated in Brook Street, Mayfair, directly opposite Claridge’s, the five-storey townhouse offers barbering, skincare, bodycare and spa treatments in a private “lifestyle” retreat that combines the comfort and the atmosphere of a gentleman’s club with the vitality and well-being of a health spa. In short, it’s posh enough to make you feel really special but modern enough so as not to be stuffy.
“At The Refinery, we aim to create an environment where men can feel comfortable and unwind,” say the co-owners Laith Waines and Omar Fadli. “In general, our clients are cosmopolitan, professional men who are aware of the importance of grooming and like to look their best all the time.”
Indeed, it has everything that you could possibly want. There’s a shop where you can buy products (including The Refinery’s own product range); The Pit Stop, where you choose from a selection of 15-minute treatments if you’re in a rush; the barbers; the skincare and body-therapy rooms; muscle-toning machines; a sunbed room; the club lounge (where there’s a computer so that you can work between treatments); a dry flotation tank; and valeting services.
Thirtysomethings Waines and Fadli met while working together at an investment boutique in Mayfair, and went on to co-found their own investment company before establishing The Refinery five years ago. Now, with further branches in the City of London and in Harrods, The Refinery has three distinct treatment philosophies, each using a different line of products: North American (Dermalogica); European (Ionithermie/ Phytomer); and British (Refinery and Aromatherapy Associates). And the “Menu of Refinements” is amazing, if a little overwhelming: should I go for the De-stress Body Booster, the Travel Fatigue Body Booster, the Ionithermie Ultimate Lifting Facial, the Emperor’s Acupuncture, or the spray-on tan, eyebrow shaping and leg waxing?
After much deliberation, I go for The Refinery Premier Face and Body Treatment, described so: “Refine the skin and de-stress the body by starting with a back and shoulder exfoliation and massage. This is followed by our Ayurvedic scalp massage, which is designed to help the whole body relax. To conclude, a deep cleansing facial is performed using a blend of the finest essential oils that are unique to the Refinery product range (90 minutes, pounds 110).” Oh, and not forgetting a manicure and The Refinery Haircut and Finish (pounds 48).
First up is the spa therapist Annerine McGeer, who starts by massaging out the tension and knotted muscles in my back, exfoliating my congested skin and steaming the stress out of it. Then McGeer, who has the touch of a loving mother fused with the sensual manipulation of a seductress (and no, it’s not that kind of place), works her magic on my face, massaging, cleansing, exfoliating and steaming it back to life.
This is bliss! As I lie half-asleep on the bed, limp and elated, McGeer massages my hands and buffs my nails into shape. “Pleeease, can I just stay here and go to sleep?” I ask pathetically. “Everybody asks me that,” answers McGeer, rolling her eyes. “But I’m sorry, I have another client to attend to.”
The wicked McGeer sends me downstairs to the barbers, where the senior barber Shen Hasan awaits. Hasan is a Turk, and as anybody who has had their hair cut by a Turk will tell you, they are the best. (It was, after all, the Turks who mastered the art of the steam room and ancient grooming rituals that included the use of hot pokers to singe nasal hair.) A shampoo, conditioning treatment and short back and sides later, and I think I’ve scrubbed up well.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, you look a lot better,” Hasan says. “You look like a different man.”
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