Brazil, Brazil

At Strip, waxing technicians never “double-dip.”

THERE IS NOTHING DELIGHTFUL about the manmade—South American, if you will—torture device otherwise known as Brazilian wax.

Being slathered with a hot, glue-like substance is one thing, and poked at in one’s nether regions and places where “the sun doesn’t shine” by a complete stranger, another. But having body hair uprooted by the hundreds in one swift sweep is the epitome of what suffering for beauty (and fashion) truly means.

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