Cartouche Day Spa

If I could take away rather than give stars, trust me, I would.
I want to start by prefacing this review with the admission that I haven’t been to Cartouche in years. A while back, when I was a student at MSU, I decided to get my first ever bikini wax. What a trek into womanhood, right? I had just read an article about this great new place in the State News and my roommates and I decided to make a day of it. We hit Panera, did some window shopping, and grabbed a happy hour mojito, all the while completely unaware of the disturbing occurrence was about to rip apart our perfectly pleasant college afternoon… literally.
Upon walking in, I was immediately greeted by Olga (as I like to remember her being called) and escorted to a private waxing room. The moment the door closed and she turned on the wax heater, the terror began.
I was obviously a bit nervous and asked that my 2 roommates be allowed to come in the room with me. This did not go over well with this ornery old woman with the opposite of a sunny disposition. She eventually conceded after a smiley protest from me and she gave me instruction to lay flat and spread ‘em.
I will spare you the details on the events that followed, but they involved Olga ripping, me crying, her shushing («stop being a baby, it’s not that bad!»), me screaming, her rolling her eyes and ripping some more, me bleeding, and my roommates all the while watching in horror. I kid you not: I BEGGED her to stop… pleaded her to spare me… all to no avail. When she was about three quarters of the way done, I looked up at Jessica with tearful eyes and grabbed her hand, a broken woman. That’s all it took for Jess to hold up her palm with gusto and exclaim, «Ma’am! I think she’s had enough! It’s over!» I thank her for that to this day.
In an attempt to cut this mile long review down to the basics, the following facts hold true:
— The entire place has an eerie feel.
— The staff does NOTHING to even attempt to make you feel comfortable.
— I bled much more than I should have.
— Large portions of my skin were black with bruises for days.
— She didn’t get all the wax off which led extreme discomfort when wearing underwear or pants for the entire week following.
— Most importantly, I felt extremely violated.
I only write this now, because tomorrow, a full 6 years later, I am about to embark on another bikini wax. I’ve done the research and read the reviews and I can only hope that this time around is better than the last. It’d be pretty hard not to be… unless this time I come out without a vagina altogether.

For Brazilians in East Lansing: Nelli at Cartouche can’t be beat. She’s super fast and thorough. The hard green wax will hurt like hell: be warned; but the results are well worth it.