Central London, 9.20am
The waxer
Otylia Roberts introduced the Brazilian pubic wax to the UK
I grew up in a Polish village where everyone was a farmer. It was dreadful. We had no electricity until I was 14. I was slightly brighter than the rest of the kids. I loved reading about travel, about other countries, other lives, so I went to Warsaw to be a nurse. When Eastern Europe opened up, I managed to get a sponsor in London. My nursing qualifications weren't recognised here, but I met a Polish girl who said she worked in Harvey Nichols. I thought she must clean the toilets, but she was a beauty therapist. I trained, too, finished with top marks, and worked in Harvey Nichols for 20 years. We had a lot of high society - the Aga Khan's wife, the Duchess of Kent, Victoria Lockwood, Earl Spencer's wife - and a lot of very fussy customers. Every difficult customer was dumped on me. I remember an American woman - she'd had about 10 face lifts and was stretched completely - complaining we were all stupid because no one was able to remove the hair from her nose.
Waxing is quite easy, really, but it's like hairdressing. All hairdressers know how to cut hair, but some cut it better than others. Most people do strip waxing, but I use hot wax. It's very thick, it softens the skin, then you flick it off with your hands. You don't need paper.
For 20 years, I never even thought you could wax people without underwear, so I'd push the pants from side to side. You'd get the odd customer who wanted it all off because her boyfriend liked kinky sex, but usually it was just legs and bikini lines. Then, about 10 years ago, a woman came in, stripped completely and said: 'I want you to remove all the hair.' I thought: 'Why not?' At the end, she said: 'Otylia, you've a talent for this. Why don't you publicise it?' Clients started coming from Manchester, Dublin, Scandinavia. Now 80 per cent of our business is the Brazilian or the Hollywood. People like me because I'm older and an ex-nurse. I've seen it all before.
At first, I thought the Brazilian looked strange - but now I have it done on myself, too. It feels better. When you have hair, you perspire, you get more odour. Without hair, it's easier to clean. It looks neater. I think in the future all women will do it - it will be normal to have no hair there at all.
I have women of 60 coming for Brazilians - I think they are the ones who do it for their husbands. One of my clients is 86. Sometimes I'm asked to do shapes, like hearts at Valentine's. We used to do a bit of decoration with crystals, but imagine if it stuck to your boyfriend. That wouldn't be funny. I waxed all the Spice Girls, Gwyneth Paltrow. But celebrities think they are so special they can ask you to go to their house. Or their appointment is for 4pm but they come at 2pm - and then ask you to wax quickly. Some expect you to do it for free.
When I go back to Warsaw and tell the women about waxing, they say: 'But this must hurt!' and I say: 'Yes!' 'And doesn't the hair grow back?' 'Yes!' 'And women still come back for more?!'
In the village I'm from, I don't even tell them. I say I'm a beautician, and for Polish women that means facials and make-up. I earn more in a day than they do in four months working on the land. If they knew how much women pay to have their hair removed down there... well, they'd think we were mad.
Kensington, 11.15am
The Botox specialist
Dr Jules Nabet, a favourite among actors, works in Paris and London
I have 3,000 patients - see my diary; I am fully, fully booked - but the demand is less in Paris. Over there, they don't like to spend money, so only the rich are thinking about Botox. In the UK, everybody is. When a French woman comes to see me, she says: 'I want this, I want that.' An English woman says: 'Doctor, tell me what you can do for me.' I can look and say: 'You are beautiful, but you have a wrinkle here... I can do Botox.' The English woman has complete confidence in me. I love my job. I love women, and I like to improve their looks. Perhaps I'm also a little bit of an artist - I like working with my hands. Yes, I know it's less important than treating a cancer patient, but I give confidence to women. That's also important.
I'm seeing more and more young people here. Agencies keep sending me their models - even when they don't have any lines. Sometimes, I'll do the Botox, other times, I'll say: 'Non! You don't need it.' I don't like Barbie dolls. The most important thing for me is they look natural. When they leave, people should say: 'Ahhh, you look fine, you look healthy!' not 'What have you had done?'
Lots of men come now. Sometimes wives bring their husbands. They are businessmen; they have big lines and looked stressed. With Botox, they can go to work looking relaxed. It's better for business meetings.
Outside work, at parties, when I'm talking to somebody, yes, I'm always thinking: 'I could improve her...' I do the Botox for myself and my wife. I did my daughter when she was 21. At first she didn't want it. She said: 'No, my lines are OK,' but she had headaches so she took the Botox to relax her. The migraines have finished but now she is saying: 'Papa, do my Botox again! The lines are coming back!'
Brixton, 1.30pm
The nail technician
Helen Phillips works in Fingertips, the first nail bar in Brixton. She has been there for 17 years
Some of my clients like the Flo-Jo thing. I have to stick three long nails on one of my clients. She's been coming for years. I asked her if her husband minds, but she says when they're not done he complains. She can still type 55 words a minute, which I find extraordinary.
You have to adjust your lifestyle to your nails. Feeding a baby, changing a nappy can be hard. The nails can be a weapon or a deterrent. People see them and think: 'Oh my God, I'll never get into a fight with you.'
A lot of clients come when they're depressed or low, or their husband has left home. It's a way of getting yourself back in order - it makes you feel elegant, that you're looking after yourself. One client came a week after her daughter died. She came out of the house for the first time to get her nails done.
It's a one-on-one thing: you're face to face, holding their hand. You're not just a nail technician, you're a counsellor as well. You ask: 'Why did you want to do your nails?' 'Oh, I just wanted to treat myself, as I've not being feeling so good.' 'Why's that, what's getting you down?'... People you've never seen before pour out their lives. Sometimes I feel so loaded I wonder how I'll sleep at night.
I've been working here for 17 years, and for most of them we were the only nail technicians in Brixton. Now there's one on every corner. I've had 13-year-olds asking me to put on nail extensions, but I don't do it if there's no permission from their mums. I'm sure they just walk straight to one of the nail bars round the corner instead.
I use fibreglass, but all the other nail bars work in acrylic. They don't care about the natural nail first any more - they just build a house on it. It's all about the design and not about shape. They use a drilling machine, which is quite damaging. I do everything with a file, and it takes an hour to do a full set. I only charge £35, but in central London it's twice that amount for fibreglass. When I was on my maternity leave, some of my clients had to go into the West End. They said it cost £70 and I did a better job.
· Fingertips, 33 Brixton Station Rd, London SW9 (020 7733 1503)
Liverpool, 4pm
The fake bakers
Kim Kennedy and Kelly Cruickshank run Kaydems, a mobile beauty business in Liverpool specialising in fake-bake parties
Kim I used to own a sunbed shop, but nobody's interested in them any more. It's the skin cancer. There's so much on the news that it's just putting people off and it cost me money to keep them running. I ended up scrapping them. I was gutted.
Fake tans are what people want now. We're the only people in Liverpool doing tanning parties. It's just something different from an Ann Summers party. Someone gets a few girls together, they have a few drinks, and we come along with a fold-up tent. They go in one by one and usually strip down to a G-string. It's lovely seeing the results - they start off pale, and by the end they're glowing.
A lot of women are really self-conscious about their bodies, but when you see them naked it's nowhere near as bad as they think. We had one woman yesterday who kept saying: 'I'm fat, I'm fat.' She was about a size 14, but when she undressed she had the most perfect skin. I told her: 'I'm thinner than you but I'm covered in stretch marks.' It makes you feel better about your own body, seeing all these women who are so paranoid but actually look fine. You realise maybe you're not bad either.
People in Liverpool do seem to want to be tanned more than anywhere else. I've never thought about why, because we don't know any different. I used to go on the tan beds about three or four times a week, 12 minutes a time - I was constantly on them. Now I worry about the damage I did, but to be honest, if fake tans hadn't come along, I'd still risk it.
My daughters are nine and 12, and they want the spray tan constantly. I once did it very light and they loved it. They'll never go on the beds, which I'm pleased about.
My partner likes me with nothing on my face and every time I do my tan, he's like: 'Oh no!' But I don't feel comfortable being white, and I don't look a certain way for a fella.
Kelly I like doing the spray tans best, just because the results are so lovely and it's so quick. Kim and I spray each other once a week. I do it to look healthy. My mum has it done, too - she's 53. My boyfriend hates it. He prefers me white with no make-up, all natural looking. He says: 'You look well better with nothing on your face.' But the thought of going out like that is scary.
· Kaydems Mobile Tanning & Beauty (07934 877 147)
Leicester, 7.30pm
The blow-dryer
Hairdresser Leah Wright is manager of the Barrie Stephen Blow-Dry Bar, Leicester. She's worked in various salons for the past 12 years
We knew blow-dry bars were happening in London and wanted to see if we could make them work in Leicester. We launched with a cocktail menu, each cocktail representing a look. So the Bellini is a sleek finish, the Beachcomber is that bed-head look, the Cosmopolitan is more glamorous. It's taken a while for people to get the idea. Some clients expect us to serve them cocktails to drink.
The people we see are mainly professional women coming in during their lunch break or before going out for the evening. It's a quick fix - just £10 - to have your hair washed and blow-dried so you feel a bit more finished. A lot of women feel great when they leave a salon after a cut, then can't recreate that look.
Part of our service is to give a mini lesson. They often get into a complete mess, tangling up the wires, or getting the hairbrush stuck in their hair. Sometimes they'll have the dryer too close so you'll get this awful burning smell.
A lot of people still believe their way is best, though. One client swears by getting in the car with the fan heaters on full and finger-drying her hair. Another brought in her old-fashioned hood dryer. We try to accommodate everyone, so we found a quiet space and let her do it.
We've been open for 18 months and we've now got clients who come in each week. Women work harder, juggle family and want a bit of 'me time'. People have vices - wine, cigarettes - why not spend £10 on a Friday evening making your hair freshly clean, volume added for the weekend?
My mum was always visiting salons and I thought they were lovely places. I still think that - and I've been working in them since I was 16. How great to spend the day in a lovely space making people look good. In the evenings you can see passers-by wondering what's going on in here. It's like we're having a party.
After 12 years I still wake up feeling really motivated, and I don't think many people can say that about their jobs. Hopefully I'll always be doing this - until my feet give in.
Manchester, 8pm
The men's groomer
Eddie Crow manages the Gentry Grooming Co in Manchester, a men-only salon which offers everything from a beard trim to an eyebrow tint
Men have been secretly vain for a while, haven't they? Go into any women's clothes shops and look at all the men trailing behind their women. They're always at the mirrors. When I was younger, there were stonewashed jeans and a side parting and that was it.
I wanted to be a builder, but I started this to get my dad off my case. I finished my GCSEs and sat at home with my dad going on about getting a job. I went into the newsagents and he said there was a job in the barbers next door. That barber was dead old school - it had to be perfect even if it took three hours. Watching him, I thought: 'Wow, it's an art.'
I think it's harder to do a man's hair because if you make a mistake, you see it. You cut their hair and they practically get the tape measure out to check it all over.
The idea here is for men to come in, get treated well, relax, get a bit pampered. They can have a beer, we have a laugh. There's rally on the TV or Sky Sports. We get all sorts: quite a few students, your everyday Joe Bloggs, builders who want a manicure and then say, 'Don't tell me mates off the site.' We get villains coming in for facials - they've got a 100-grand Mercedes parked outside and say they're in the 'cleaning business'.
A lot of people want it all. With the facials, they say things like: 'Try to get rid of my wrinkles.' You have to explain that it won't happen. Or they say: 'Can you make my hair look thicker?' and they've got about one hair on the side of their head.
Some customers are a bit surprised that it's all done in the shop, not in a private room. With facials, they lie back with cucumber pads on their eyes and they're like: 'What, here?' Or they come for a massage and don't want to take their top off.
We've had a few soap stars - Coronation Street, Emmerdale. Peter Crouch came in his England tracksuit but the lad who cut his hair didn't recognise him and asked what he did for a living. They're all down to earth, just make an appointment and come in with everyone else. There's no special treatment.
Beauty: the facts
In 2007, 427,000 non-invasive procedures were carried out in the UK
Smooth operators
The women's hair-removal market is worth more than £300m a year in the UK
The first advert for a female hair-removal product appeared in Harpers Bazaar in 1915
A quarter of men admit to trimming their groin
Nine-inch nails
The UK nail-care industry is valued at £77m
A golden glow
A British Skin Foundation survey found 19 per cent of UK adults now use self-tanning products
Getting into a lather
The average British man now spends 24 minutes a day on personal grooming
The men's toiletry market is worth £800m a year
