My initial reaction to the idea of visiting Madame Tussaud’s was one of apprehension.
My previous encounters with wax have been fraught with anxiety. Growing up in a household that embraced alternative remedies, as a youngster I would be positioned on my side on the settee while a wax flame was held near my ear. The rationale was that it would unblock my ears, though with the benefit of hindsight, it simply meant forcing this child to listen to us.
Such experiences have left me wary of even the most pleasant-smelling Yankee Candle. To this day, whenever I spot a scented candle, I instinctively brace myself for some kind of therapeutic procedure.
Unfortunately for my parents, it appeared my supposed hearing difficulties were more of a fundamental character flaw. As time passed, the wax paraphernalia gathered dust in the kitchen cupboard, never to resurface.
My fears were not alleviated by my colleague Sav, who recounted how she was seized by the realistic wax figures during a childhood visit to Madame Tussaud’s.
In an instant, I was confronted with 23 years of wax-related anxieties, but Madame Tussaud’s was scheduled for that evening and there was no opportunity to cancel.
To my astonishment, I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
My housemates Tilly and Ella accompanied me to the Madame Tussauds London VIP event. Unlike my childhood encounters with wax, this particular experience commenced with alcoholic drinks.
We subsequently discovered the prosecco was indeed unlimited, which we consumed alongside numerous cucumber sandwiches, scones and macaroons.
This is not intended as a food and drink critique, but I can confirm that several glasses of prosecco prove remarkably effective at making wax figures appear considerably more lifelike than they should be.
As my housemate Tilly observed, the most disorienting aspect for her involved determining whether an individual was a member of staff or an actual exhibit.
On multiple occasions we scrutinised ordinary human beings for considerably longer than social etiquette typically permits.
Regarding the employees, they were unfailingly attentive. We encountered Luis, whom we charmed, or more accurately, persuaded into providing us with a private tour of the serial killer section. Luis possessed a surprising, and somewhat unsettling, depth of knowledge about each murderer.
The unfortunate man found himself confined in a basement with three journalists questioning him about the ethics of exhibiting society’s most depraved killers. At one stage, he informed us that these figures had actually been created before anyone currently working in the establishment was born. I offer my apologies to my editor, should you be reading this, but the wax figure in question was actually fashioned in the late 1980s.
Luis clarified that the murderer exhibits were intentionally situated below the celebrity levels and were designed more for educational purposes than mere entertainment. This was a measured and considered response, which unfortunately meant we had to abandon our attempts to provoke debate.
We therefore proceeded onwards, past Jack the Ripper and his contemporaries.
In a rather chilling detail, the authentic garments of several of Britain’s most notorious killers are exhibited. The museum additionally features the original gates from Newgate Prison.
Having fully explored the death-related side of wax, the time had come for a lighter exhibition: the opportunity to meet the artisans responsible for creating the sculptures.
This is precisely what distinguishes Madame Tussaud’s. Within moments one can transition from discussing Victorian murder to observing someone carve Harry Styles’ cheekbone.
The artists demonstrated obvious passion and rendered the experience highly engaging.
One artisan entertained me in a manner suggesting he regularly interacts with young children. He permitted me to help fill a gap in his clay creation, so my touch would be present in the wax figure indefinitely.
I am 23 rather than 5, yet I was delighted by this gesture nonetheless.
In a moment of complete self-absorption, I felt compelled to ask what would prove most challenging about rendering me in wax.
A wave of apprehension washed over me immediately.
Was he about to expose some catastrophic flaw I had somehow overlooked throughout my life? An asymmetrical face perhaps? A suspiciously prominent forehead?
He explained that my eyes would prove most challenging because I smile with them, and that would be difficult to replicate in wax.
Media-trained? Most certainly. Was I won over? Completely.
Something I observed that may not appeal to those with perfectionist tendencies is the arrangement of the exhibits.
The England football squad were positioned merely steps away from King Henry VIII. Nearby, Taylor Swift was captured mid-performance. An impressive Eras Tour audience, certainly.
By approximately my fifth macaroon, I was beginning to worry I was developing a closer resemblance to the younger Henry.
Surprisingly, Henry VIII appeared rather at ease among contemporary celebrities. Though I suppose he possessed more understanding of fame, public scrutiny and acrimonious separations than most.
The historical journey through time, which came as a complete surprise, constituted another highlight. We boarded black cabs and journeyed through scenes encompassing the Plague, the Industrial Revolution and the First World War, featuring appearances from Queen Victoria and Winston Churchill. Within moments, we had traversed 500 years of national trauma.
Overall, I believe the blend of hyper-realistic sculptures combined with thematic disorder is what renders Madame Tussaud’s so entertaining.
For me, that eclectic mixture constituted precisely the point.
And most importantly, nothing quite exposes the fragility of human dignity like observing adults standing patiently in line for a photograph while pretending to throttle a wax celebrity.