Sedona Aesthetician Provides Psychic Pedicures
The aesthetician at this Arizona nail salon cares more about the size of your big toe than your polish color.
When I pull up to Lovejoy’s Enchanted Cottage in Sedona, Arizona, the first thing I notice is a white convertible with a vanity plate reading “YN YANG.” I enter the small purple bungalow, filled with candles, tarot cards and crystals, and meet proprietor Deb Lovejoy. She lives and works here, offering mystical and spiritual services such as Reiki, chakra work and her specialty: the psychic pedicure. For $120, the bright-eyed 64-year-old will not only scrub, buff and polish your toes, but use them to divine what she says are insights about your personality and future.
I’ve come to visit Deb on the recommendation of a friend, and though I’m somewhat skeptical about all the foo-foo-woo-woo stuff, I’m always excited to get a pedicure. To be honest, I’m expecting Deb to be a bit flighty, but she’s all business, leading me to the small room where she does all of her treatments and to the massage chair and foot bath (same as a traditional salon) flanked with blankets and pillows. She works alone and only sees one client at a time to keep things intimate and personal.
Believed to be the world’s only spiritual master pedicurist,
Deb got her start offering psychic readings as an add-on to pedicures at a traditional salon, and continued her tarsal education by earning a certification as a master toe reader at the Southwest Institute of Healing Arts in nearby Tempe. She has always connected with feet, believing that they are an overlooked part of the body with a lot to tell us. “I just love what feet represent,” she says, referring to their ability to literally carry us through our lives. Now, roughly 30,000 psychic pedicures later, she interprets feet much the way palm readers do hands, except instead of life lines and the length of your ring finger, Deb analyzes the length, spacing and condition of your toes.
Deb starts the bath and adds oils to the water. It seems like a run-of-the-mill pedicure, until she suddenly throws in a clear quartz. “To focus your energy and promote clear thinking,” she explains. As the warm water runs over my feet, she asks me to write down my birthday, then looks at it, particularly the number 25, and nods. “You possess a sound, traditional mind and keen insight,” she tells me, explaining that I’m at my best when I’m researching to make informed decisions. “You can become easily imbalanced if you favor the intellectual, which can make you aloof, critical and, at the very worst, cynical.” I’ve been making an effort to be open-minded during this process, but now I’m worried Deb can read toes and minds.
Every part of the foot has meaning, at least to Deb. The left foot, for example, represents your internal self. Your big toe, known as the “destiny toe,” is said to be linked to your relationships and willingness to open yourself up to new experiences. The pinkie reveals trust issues on the left foot and prosperity on the right. As she exfoliates, Deb points out that my big toe and second toe on my left foot are very close together, which indicates to her that I’m closing off my intuition and not allowing people in. She smiles all-knowingly, now noticing a theme with my numerological reading.
As the oils and lotions seep into my feet, Deb grabs my “angel cards,” similar to tarot. Before I arrived, she’d drawn three cards, and she invites me to now turn them over: The first reads “healing,” with a small illustration of two angels, which seems fairly generic. The next pair, though, make me wonder if Deb might have peeked beforehand: “The Angel of Trust” and “Let go of the need to control.” Even Deb looks surprised. When a theme appears so many times in one session, Deb says, it’s best to pay attention.
I lean in, thinking she’s about to reveal another deep insight, but instead she starts buffing my toenails. Our conversation quiets as she paints my nails with the deep purple polish I’ve chosen, followed by the glittery gold topcoat to seal it in.
As my toenails dry, Deb unsheathes two tuning forks, their metal prongs calibrated to reverberate at a specific, “spiritually resonant” frequency. She taps them against the tub and presses the lightly humming tips to the balls of my feet. The vibrations are supposed to travel through my body and reset my psychic energy. I can’t say that they’re doing that, but I certainly feel calm. Deb then brings in a third tuning fork and whirls the ringing device along the outline of my body in an attempt to align chakras that I didn’t even know needed recalibration.
I slip on my sandals and head out to the car, certain that my plum-tipped toes—and aura—have never looked better.