InStyle March 2017 OXC Kelly Oxford - Lead
Credit: Jeffrey Westbrook

Kelly Oxford goes deep into the world of metaphysical energy with the help of a healer, a facialist, some rose quartz … and Spencer Pratt.

I’ve always been open to, yet skeptical of, “woo-woo” things like spirit guides, crystals, and juice cleanses. Crystals, in particular, made me think of sad people grasping for anything to get them through life. So when, in 2015, glamorous and not-at-all-sad Nicole Richie flashed me a palm full of glittering gems while shooting an unusually stressful scene with the cast of Love & Hip Hop on her VH1 show, Candidly Nicole, I was intrigued. Were they really working to keep the shouts from penetrating her core? Were they that powerful? Maybe this woo-woo-ness was actually for me. A few days later, as my children argued loudly over control of the TV, I thought back to Richie’s calm and knowing demeanor and immediately ordered The Crystal Bible and a piece of labradorite—you know, for strength.

Since then I’ve purchased nearly a hundred crystals. Thankfully, you can get these things at any price point, from $1 to thousands of dollars. I’ve found a mysterious quartz dealer in Malibu (don’t ask; he’s not listed) and become a person who follows the moon cycles in order to charge stones under the moonlight. I thought I’d reached “peak crystal person” when people on Twitter accused me of stealing the Moon Juice quartz (I beg you to Google) and my Snapchat friend Spencer Pratt and I began to fantasize about opening a crystal store together in the San Fernando Valley. Look, when I go deep into a new subject I’m interested in, I go that deep. I. Go. Deep. Fast.

But after collecting crystals, charging them, giving them intent, and enjoying them, my OCD led me to take another step. I couldn’t manage to learn everything on my own when there were true experts. out there—and even surrounded by crystals, I was still stressed. I realized I needed more than what I was learning from books; I needed some guides. So I booked an appointment with a crystal healer and a crystal facialist. I was ready to go to the next level: Keyser Söze.

Step 1: The Crystal Healer

Azalea Lee’s cool, minimalist space is called Place 8 Healing and is located high above the shouts and honks of downtown Los Angeles. Lee has no pretentious vibes, despite the fact that she’s obviously been reincarnated. Her aesthetic is low-key enviable, like a doll out of a Rachel Comey factory. There’s zero woo-woo. I can tell immediately that her collection is extremely well-curated. She has a crystal for everything: rose quartz for emotions and love, selenite for clarity of mind and transformation, black tourmaline to release and repel negative energies, a quartz penis carving, generously life-size … “I got these penises for fun,” she says earnestly, and I love her. “They’re just carved so well,” I say, nodding, totally in agreement. “Truly lifelike.”

She explains that problems with the body are tied to spirit and emotion and that crystals help us gain clarity. I would like some clarity. As I lie on the table, eyes closed, Lee explains that she is nothing but a guide on this metaphysical trip. She has me breathe into my chakras one by one and asks me to describe to her what I visualize. Sometimes I see a color, other times an object. In my heart chakra there’s a scary rabbit (it’s a long story that turns out OK, I swear).

None of this feels weird; it’s like a lucid dream that Lee guides me through as she carefully selects and places crystals on my body. Dozens of crystals are put in patterns around my chakras. (At the end, I notice that when I’d mentioned seeing a color for a designated chakra, she’d found a crystal of the same color to set there.) I don’t even think about opening my eyes, not once, which I retrospectively find odd because under most circumstances I have the attention span of a gerbil.

I leave my session with Lee with tools to self-calm (I’m notoriously anxious—see scary rabbit in heart): a large anthracite to sleep with, to “de-fuzz” old feelings from new events; an anhydrite to positively meditate with for one minute at the end of each day; and a rose quartz to carry around—my new lucky penny.

Step 2: The Crystal Facial

I’m on the table of Dayle Breault, aka the Goddess of Skin, and her poreless complexion is 100 percent enviable. She asks if I Googled her before coming in, and I tell her no, which is the truth. Of course, the moment I walked into her vast, glass walled Venice work–living space and saw her clients’ faces on a standing cardboard cutout, I was hers forever. She’s the skin guru to Lisa Bonet, Cara Delevingne, and Zoë Kravitz.

Once we start the facial, I’m in and out of consciousness right off the bat due to my Pavlovian reaction to a Palo Santo smudge and blessing. Breault massages my face with selenite; sandblasts me with amber; peels me with hot cinnamon, clove, and niacin; and uses a micro-pulsing tool to tighten my face. She does the latter in conjunction with creams made of heavenly scents, rubbing ruby and sapphire into my skin, which now feels as tight as a blinged-out snare drum. I know this may be the only situation that Cara Dele­vingne would ever want to trade places with me.

Breault sends me home with some of her Synergy Mist (organic, nontoxic, crystal-infused, handcrafted, and blessed during a new or full moon) to layer on top of Truthful Serum moisturizer. (Btw: I did not know mists went on top of moisturizers.) I’ve had facials before, but this one felt magical. My skin ended up clearer and less red than it normally gets after regular, now-lame-seeming facials.

I get home and message my buddy Pratt: “Hey, Spencer, you should totally see the crystal healer and facialist I saw—neither of them were charlatans!”

“I can’t,” he replies. “My skin is hypersensitive. I can only use Avène. But watching your crystal journey on Snapchat has relit my passion for stones. I used to do crazy things, like, it’s prob not chill taking rutilated quartz wands everywhere in public and moving peeps’ energy.”

I type back, “Hahaha,” and get ready for bed while thinking about leveling up to Pratt’s crystal status by moving peeps’ energy in public with the penis quartz. I then come to a quick realization that between letting crystals guide a journey through my body and having them rubbed into my face, I have likely surpassed dear Spencer. The student has become the master.

For more stories like this, pick up InStyle's March issue, on newsstands and available for digital download Feb. 10.