Proactiv is the best face-wash I have ever used. Hands down. End of discussion. I have never considered another product since I started using it about 6 years ago.

That said, buying Proactiv has always been somewhat of a frustration. You can order it online at Proactiv.com, but only by agreeing to have it automatically re-ordered every month for something like $49.95. So even if I don’t use up my supply every month it automatically gets re-ordered and delivered, which I don’t like. I want to control when I get the stuff.

You can also buy Proactiv on E-bay from third-party dealers for slightly less money, but there just seems to be something inherently wrong and semi-apocalyptic about buying facial cleanser in an online auction, and thus far I have avoided that avenue of procurement.

The only place I know to physically buy Proactiv in New York City is at a kiosk inside the Mall of Manhattan in Midtown. This is never a pleasant experience. In almost two years of visiting the kiosk I have come to expect a minimum of 65 lbs. pure frustration/per second I am inside the mall before I actually get my box of Proactiv.

My experiences with one kiosk in Manhattan, as well as the cult-like severity with which Proactiv is championed, hated and endorsed has made me hesitant to admit I use the product. An aura of futuristic prescriptive addiction surrounds the brand, leading to what I believe is a Proactiv Black Market, dealing in the supply of pilfered Proactiv, much the same way drug dealers leverage people’s desperation into higher profits. Allow me several examples:

The first time I visited the Mall of Manhattan I found the Proactiv kiosk in an open space next to some kind of Dead Sea Salt Scrub vendor in front of Express clothing store. The kiosk cash register was unmanned, testimonials from Vanessa Williams, Jessica Simpson and Diddy playing in a loop on a television next to piles of Proactiv solution.

The Dead Sea vendor said, “She’ll be back. Just wait a minute.” I leaned against the railing, took in essence of Mall. Food court waft. Sawyer from LOST modeling Express in the display window.

About 40 minutes later a girl came back with a sack of grease lunch and grudgingly sold me the 3-piece Proactiv set after telling me a passport was not a valid form of ID to back up my debit card.

In the time she had been gone several other people had come up to the kiosk, but after 10 or 15 minutes of unattended waiting had drifted away, to seek facial cleansing elsewhere I suppose.

About 3 months later I despondently made the trip again, this time later in the day, around 3pm, to be sure I caught the girl after her lunch break. The kiosk was in the same spot - center of the Dead Sea Express - once again, no girl. This time however, she’d thought things through.

A hand-written sign reading ON MY BREAK - ONE HOUR completely covered the television set playing Proactiv commercials. Again, I took up a spot by the railing and waited. About 30 minutes later she came back with some McDonalds and sat at her stool behind the cash register.

“Can I buy a 3-piece set from you?” I said.

She opened a trough of french fries. “On my break. See the sign. In half hour you can get it.”

For thirty minutes I watched her slog and grunt through a Quarter Pounder, fries and a coke, never taking my eyes from her face. I stood by the railing until she slid off the stool and untaped her Break Sign from Vanessa Williams’ face.

I bought my Proactiv and left the mall, feeling an almost cathartic, transcendent sense of rage and disgust.

But my most recent encounter with the kiosk was by far the most interesting, and in a way, the most satisfying.

I asked my friend Vanessa if she wanted to go to the Mall of Manhattan for what I assured her would be an astoundingly absurd experience. Korean food afterwards.

Not surprisingly, the Proactiv kiosk and the Dead Sea Scrub kiosk were gone: just a big empty swath of white tile in front of Express. Fine. I had expected this to happen earlier; the searing coil of giddy anger in my belly reminded me I was alive.

Then I saw it, on the same level across the mall, in front of Charlotte Russe, covered in luminescent buds of Facial Cleanser, Toner and Repairing Lotion.

This was a different girl. “Hello,” I said. “Can I buy a 3-piece set from you?”

She stared at me blankly, then smiled, giggling.

“Mmm, k, see, the thing is, we all sold out actually.”

The kiosk was literally covered in Proactiv product.

“Ok,” I said.

“But like, I ain’t supposed to, but like, I can put you together a “gift” set, right? But you gotta pay cash.”

The girl looked around like we were being watched. A security guard thumbed his utility built. Vanessa was in Charlotte Russe, mulling over the shorts.

“Alright,” where’s the ATM?”

“Across the mall on this level. It’s gonna be $53.96 with tax.”

I went to the ATM, got my money and came back, expecting her to to have fled the scene. But there she was, grinning, holding a green plastic bag in her lap with 3 bottles inside (usually the sets come in a cardboard box with molded plastic insert).

“You don’t need a receipt or nuthin, right? Cause I can give you one, but I gotta write it out by hand.”

“No,” I said. I don’t need a receipt.”

I was so jealous. I wished I’d thought of it. Proactiv does a horseload of business, $850 million each year. Minimum price for a set is $53.96 and it only gets more expensive from there.

She had a fucking operation going. I bet she cleared $1,000 easy that day alone. Cash in hand. No telling how long it had been since Proactiv had shut the kiosk down or how much backstock that girl and whoever else was in on it would go through before the kiosk really ran dry.

Someone had a good eye and took advantage of an unmonitored situation. Could have even been a ring or people, interstate: unlicensed Proactiv kiosks shoveling in an underground river of facial cash across the country. Damn. I wanted in.

Perhaps because of this problem, Proactiv has recently come out with automated Proactiv Vending Machines. I’ve seen photos of these machines planted in airports and malls in California, Nevada, Texas, Georgia and Minnesota, but so far I have not had my first interaction with one of these gleaming pachyderms of facial cleansing.

Part of me might miss my encounters with the Proactiv Pirates, but I’m sure they’ll resurface. The Black Market thrives because it adapts. I’ll be tickled the first time I see a hacked TV in one of the Automated Vending Machines, Jessica Simpson’s mouth contorted around new dialogue:

This automated kiosk is temporarily sold out of Proactiv product. We’re sorry for the inconvenience. We try our hardest to keep up with Proactiv’s popularity. If you’re in need of a fresh supply of Proactiv to maintain clear, radiant skin, please visit 392 W. 32 Street, the first door without a chicken in the window. Make sure you have cash, as our authorized retailer is not currently set up to handle credit cards…

NOTE: The Proactiv Kiosk Locator still lists the Mall of Manhattan kiosk as active.