After a press release landed in my inbox announcing Beach Bum’s $100 in-office tanning service for the busy New Yorker, I had a chuckle. I thought about the things that fall by the wayside during my busy workweek.
I frequently cancel doctor appointments, forget to take medication and still haven’t gotten around to cleaning up my desk.
Spray tanning was right next to booking a lunch with Mahmoud Ahmadinejad on my to-do list; I grew up on the Jersey Shore and am now a reformed tanorexic.
Like most people whose names don’t end in “ooki,” I stopped sunning and embraced my pale natural hue. After all, I always associated spray tanning with those ridiculous chain e-mails showing pictures of orange Staten Islanders at their proms.
But I was curious how a cubicle-dwelling creature like myself would pull off the at-work spray tan.
I have neither a corner office nor, apparently, any shame, so I booked an appointment with Dante Fitzpatrick, Beach Bum’s celebrity spray artist.
I assumed Fitzpatrick would turn up in a trucker hat and oversize dog tags and call me “bro” before spraying me in the communal ladies’ room. But he blew into the office in a natty Homburg hat, tie and vest, and popped the tent into the empty cubicle next to mine. His quick humor made me relax right away, even though I was stripped down to a two-piece in front of curious co-workers, all
of whom were laughing and snickering.
Before giving me an all-over body spray, he painted on abs I hadn’t had since I ran the New York City Marathon in ’02. Throughout the 20-minute appointment, he lulled me into such a state of comfort that I forgot I was basically parading around half-naked as middle-aged colleagues in suits and ties walked by.
The resulting tawny color was very close to my natural tan and lasted about 10 days.
I’ll definitely go back to Fitzpatrick to get a little color for the numerous beach weddings I have to attend this year. But I’ll go to his salon for the service, and I’ll postpone my next work spray tans until I actually have my own office.