🪲 froomy reviews: tokyo headspa
i entered a 69th dimension
Good evening everybody!
all i want for christmas is this britney spears pepsi-branded winter wonderland CD-ROM replete with “stronger” remix and what appears to be a bible reference
How are we all, on this, the 4th of December?
I am coming to you live from the FROOMESWORLD office while battling a minor chest infection.
If you’re thinking, “god, she’s brave”, then thank you. To sit in a freshly-made bed with an ice-cold glass of SodaStream, a stash of Lindt Lindor balls to my left and a lava lamp adding ambience to my right, is not as easy as it looks. For instance, I still need to get up and pee.
When I was a little girl I used to think, crap I wish my Mum could pee on my behalf so I wouldn’t have to get up from my chair. I remember it so vividly, I was sitting in one of those blow-up plastic chairs when the thought first came to my mind. Which ironically would have been the one chair that is most appropriate to pee in.
There are only so many things one mother can do for her child, and putting baby’s pee in your body so you can pee it out is sadly not one of them.
Tonight, I’d like to share my Tokyo Headspa experience. I paid $165 for it and thus, my review is unencumbered by IOUs. A luxury.
Shall we?
On Sunday, I was over at a mate’s house and her housemate was on Instagram Reels.
She was watching something, and said, “Oooh, I wanna go to Toyko Headspa!”
“Omg, is that the place where they wash your hair and massage your head?” I said.
“Yes!” she replied. “Look,”
I had heard of such spas before, and salivated at the thought. All I want in this life is a good, honest head scratch. I often go to massage places and say “umm… can I just have a head and scalp massage please?” while doing this 🥺👉👈 … to no avail.
I knew these speciality spas existed, but I thought they were 7,796 km and a Jetstar special away.
But Tokyo Headspa is in Australia. And from what I gather by looking up their ABN, they’ve been ‘active’ since July 1st with six outposts – four in NSW and two in QLD.
And so, I booked in online and took myself down to the one in Bondi Junction.
It is located within this big beauty complex called Salon Lane. This was a monstrous establishment set across multiple levels, with 25 mini studios for hairdressers, injectors, nail artists, brow shapers and lash lifters.
It was dystopian, to be real. The branding was so Kardashian glam room, all beige and baby pink and boucle. There was something uncanny about all of these services being under one roof… it reminded me of a car dealership. A one-stop shop to get your vehicle serviced, or in this case, your rig.
puriodt.
Tokyo Headspa rent two of the little rooms. I was greeted out the front by my therapist, B. She was really nice and instantly made me feel comfortable and not like an absolute freak who is obsessed with getting their head scratched. Positive juju detected.
She ushered me into the private room where I would be receiving my 70-minute treatment. It was cosy, with dark walls and soothing healing-style music creating a premium ambience. You can tell the space is brand new and thus unburdened by spiritual hostility and/or Sydney’s signature mould.
I was offered a gown to wear, or an option to stay in my regular clothes. I opted for clothes to avoid any and all colonoscopy vibes. Then, I sat back in a comfortable leather chair. Before reclining me, B enquired as to my hair type.
“Fine and wavy,” I replied. “Umm… and it’s virgin hair.” (tucks behind ear boastfully.)
She chose a shampoo and conditioner, gave me a quick spiel as to her why, and then laid my greasy-haired ass back down. It was time to tuck in!
Once the formalities were taken care of, it was time for sixty minutes of head massage heaven.
It included, but was not limited to: softly brushing my hair to remove knots. Washing my hair like at a salon, but double shampoo for ultimate cleanliness. The scrunching of the head. Conditioning my hair, letting it sit while my neck was massaged, and then getting a spikey nice brush to comb it through.
I’m no butcher and thus – when I tell you I swear I levitated – I’m not mincing my words!
You know that feeling when you’re on the precipice of sleep and you have a moment of wakefulness and you are so happy to be in-between? It was that. An out-of-body experience, I’d almost say.
It went by so quickly 💔 before I knew it, it was time to dry off. I didn’t feel jibbed though – it was the perfect amount, I’m just a greedy goblin for all things scalp.
At the end, your hair is dried off with a Dyson on a cool setting, with your practitioner using their fingers as a brush. I wasn’t expecting to walk away with my hair looking glossy. My hair has been tragically dry of late – a dastardly development given my all-important 2024 New Year’s Resolution of having perfect hair.
But I looked in the mirror… and my word.
Please excuse the Founding Fathers-style middle part, cat’s bumhole lips and busy mom-of-none shirt… And instead, take a load of that shine on top! My feather-fine hair felt finer than a feather. It’s a day later now, and every time I go to pee (often, given the unlimited SodaStream and lack of piss-surrogate mother), I catch a glimpse of my locks in the mirror and go 😌 “Yeah. That’s really nice.”
Now, before you start thinking I’ve been paid by BigTokyoHeadspa to advertise their wares… I must now share a contrasting experience from a loyal FROOMESWORLD employee:
Oh dear.
She specified it was a different salon, but went on to tell me that she cried when she left and now gets “ads about it all the fucking time and have mental breakdown everytime.”
Sorry I laughed 🙊 but the headspa-triggered menty b.
I hate to leave it on that note, but I simply wanted to temper expectations and/or give myself a Get Out of Jail Free card if you hate it.
I will close out by saying: if you are willing to part ways with $165 dollars, fully aware that this is a novelty experience that isn’t exactly the hairdresser and isn’t exactly a massage… then go right ahead. Hell, people are spending more money nowadays to have someone drape some coloured felt on their body to tell them they look fugly in yellow.
So, I say, sit back, relax, and enjoy the soothing, ASMR-style sound of your cold hard cash running down the drain.
You deserve it!
Thanks for reading y’all. Why end the scholastic activities there?
Try my book – $22 at Big W, or you can listen to it while forcing your significant other to give you an Australian Suburb Head Spa.
Ta ta, everyone!
FROOMES