It's Never Too Late For Your First Facial

Vogue

16-06-2025

As Rivas is relaying this, she has started work. 'First step, proper cleansing,' she says. This involves swirling an oil cleanser over my face in smooth, rhythmic waves. Cleaning is for Rivas numero uno. 'People will do it in the morning, but not at night, or the other way around; it's important to educate people on the importance of proper cleansing.' Then Rivas begins an oxygen treatment. 'You wouldn't know this [she has assumed correctly] but oxygen has been used a lot in facials over the years,' she says. If those involve an external infusion of oxygen to the skin, Rivas wants to create an oxygen-starved surface to the skin, to encourage the body to oxygenate from within. This involves applying a gently abrasive pad that she glides over my skin, likely causing it to feel, in her words, spicy. In fact, it actually feels great; a little heat building as the lightly whirring pad is moved across my face, but none of the slightly burning feeling my skin can get if it goes near any heat source.
Now we are onto the extraction moment. I brace myself for the pinching. But—get this—Rivas says, 'You have what everyone wants. You have very small pores, which is great. And when you have small pores like these, it's harder to do extractions. I don't recommend doing this at home yourself.' (Noted: No more peering into the bathroom mirror.)
Lastly, she finishes with a massage, working both face and neck. It feels incredible, but also, for someone who has had a sum total of two massages in his life, a reminder that you can find yourself connecting with your body—and now, I guess, face—differently because the muscles are being stimulated in ways you're not used to. A spot of sunscreen (okay, I am converting!) and with that we're done. She leaves me to put my sweater back on, but first I have to stare into the mirror. I can never take a compliment about myself, so I will compliment Rivas instead: She has made my skin look a-mazing; brighter, lighter, softer, but maybe just as importantly, it feels great.
I walk to the subway to go home, and almost don't want to take it, to not come into contact with the grime of the city after what has felt like an experience that was both utterly ethereal yet also so physical. I wasn't prepared for my skin to be so improved, and nor was I prepared for the realization that my avoidance of getting a facial was a strange avoidance of judgement on how well, or not, I look after my skin, and in a way, an extension of how well I look after myself. Rivas is a terrific facialist, for sure, but what makes her so good is her ability to sensitively intuit how to work with her clients.
As I left, she had thoughts. 'Let's work on the pigment, let's work on building more collagen, more elastin in your skin,' she told me, 'so maybe some microchanneling and maybe some retinol at home—that kind of thing. I don't need you worrying about blackheads. And if you really have to focus, my focus for you would be sunscreen.' All sound (and do-able) advice, but perhaps more importantly, Rivas has turned looking into the mirror every morning, noon, and night as an act of looking ahead, not just looking at the right now.