“Sleeping beauty didn’t fake it but you can”
By Tea Hacic
When I was ten I invited my best friend over to watch Men In Black. It was my favorite film and I owned the tape, which I’d seen a hundred times. My mom brought popcorn into my room and shut the door. We got into our sleeping bags on the floor. Turned the lights of and pressed play. I was shaking with fervor. This was my big moment: throughout the film I made all of the jokes I’d rehearsed. I was killing! But Naomi was silent. Not a one giggle came out of that flannel mound on the ground. It made no sense; I’m hilarious. “Naomi? Naomi?” I probed her limp body in horror: she was asleep. I was performing for myself the whole time? I’d never felt so betrayed. So…alone!
I’ve spent my life laying awake next to sleepers. Should I put that on my resume? I loved sleepovers as a kid, except the part when we’d stop our séance and actually sleepover. I’d lay in my bag agonizing over which girl hates me the most, until it was time for pancakes. As a teenager I’d wait for my parents to doze off, then tip-toe to the living room to watch Adult Swim (on mute). The next day in class I’d be shaken awake by a jock telling me I’ve been snoring. I don’t snore! I breathe hardcore! In my twenties I could never sleep next to my dates, who’d lose consciousness promptly after getting…relieved. I’d leave them and roam the streets. It was cool to not need sleep. I wasn’t human, I wasn’t weak! Fiona Apple said she doesn’t sleep to dream and she’s right. If you stay awake long enough, dreams come in the daylight—one girl’s hallucination is another’s day job. I began working in nightlife. But now I’m 30. I mean, *coughs*31. It’s time to accept the concept of sleep as something desirable. Attainable, even?
It’s 5 AM. My husband breathes deeply, cruising through smooth waves of REM. It’s unfair but I don’t hate him. I can only hate myself. I adjust the pillow under my chest. There’s a sweet spot for the cushion, between your naval and nipples, for maximum comfort while writing in bed.
The problem with sleep is it involves waking up. What if I “come to” to find a Tweet of mine went viral—in the bad way? What if the sun rises on me being “cancelled”? What if my alarm goes off to news that Trump launched a nuclear bomb?!!! I guess that’s what I must risk to avoid letting my eye bags take control of my face. Oh, my face! The mirror to my soul, the image of my health. Recently mine was caked in makeup and lurking under the shadow of an iPhone. I needed help. I needed a facial!
Between the Abbey and that store with strap-ons in the window, there’s a WEHO oasis for those seeking inner peace, outer beauty, complimentary breath mints, mini bottles of water, scented spa air and French café playlists: the studio of Gregory Dylan.
I had my first (ever!) facial this spring. I was in the middle of writing my book, I hadn’t gone out in weeks, I forgot how to apply fake eyelashes or set a wig. I was skeptical but ready to try anything, even pay what a dinner at Chateau Marmont would cost (not that I would know, I’m never the one paying for those). I’m glad I saved myself for Gregory. The first time was truly special. I entered his lair, laid in this chair and gave myself to him. He started touching my face and BAM! Lights out.
I guess it was like a…what do they call it? A nap*? When I stood up I felt high. “The facial buzz! It’s real!” He laughed. I was dizzy, glowing! Is this what healthy people feel like? My pores shrunk, my cheeks plumped, my dog said, “mom, stop looking in the mirror and feed me!” I’ve been going monthly, feeling the “cumulative effects” and the immediate ones…mostly longing for that chair. The sleep I have in there!
Last month, before I dozed off, Gregory told me he was releasing his first skincare line. The premiere product being a shiny blue bottle of: “Skin Slept In”
It smells like liquorish, tingles on application and gives the IRL glow of the Paris filter on Instagram. What’s in it? Caffeine, Matrixyl, Chicory Root, Aspen Bark Extract, Coenzyme Q10, Licorice Extract, Sodium Hyaluronate. What’s not in it? Parabens, Sulfates, cruelty! (It’s 10000% vegan).
It’s 6 AM now and my husband is flipping onto his side. I may as well shower and make coffee. Before walking my dog I’ll give myself an abundant helping of “Skin Slept In” and hope for the best.
*Naps are for sociopaths and Gemini’s.
For original article, click here: https://www.flaunt.com/content/gregory-dylan