Sea Change

The more spas change the more they stay the same.



Or do they?



After a recent trek to Southern California, where I was treated to a slew of facials, body treatments and a very cool lunch near the beach cottage where the film "Beaches" was filmed, I realized something.



Something profound and yet obvious.



Spa philosophy is undergoing a major sea change. A re-evaluation of the needs, benefits and purposes of subjecting one's self to strange therapists trained to make you feel better.



This change can be seen everywhere. The mainstream has already decided that "Green" is the new "Black." You know this because even television commercials and internet pop-ups are banging it into your head 24/7.



From fashion, cars, housing, travel and carbon footprinting, the green fever is in the air. Walk outside and take a deep whiff.



You can smell it . Or hopefully, you soon will be smelling less of "it" (read: pollution! with an exclamation point!) as politicians, big business and trend-spotters jump on the proverbial hybrid-bandwagon.



We can already purchase carbon offset controls and find dozens of internet entries to explain it to me. I mean you.

Even if we don't fully comprehend the basics (yes, I'm speaking for myself) we at least know about recycling, using canvas bags when shopping (and it doesn't count if you leave them in your car) and saving water.

We can buy or build, if you have the wherewithal, environmentally "sensible" homes, purchase less-polluting household furnishing, use solar and wind energy and join the minions who prefer to positively change habits rather than hide in a cubicle bemoaning the loss of the full-throated whatever.

And, as I've mentioned before, business-savvy and concerned travel industry leaders (particularly in the spa industry) have realized there's tons of money to be made with this new campaign to Save The World. So, let them earn the profits while cleaning up the environment. As my mother used to say, "It couldn't hurt."

It's a lofty goal and a heady declaration. But I'm kinda old school (not the movie) when it comes to fixing stuff in society. I remember writing reports on conservation in the sixth grade. And that was a "few" years ago. And why did it take so long for Al Gore and the Environmentalists (a new rock band?) to be taken seriously? Anybody?

As long as we continue to move forward, there's still hope. But we have to keep it alive through action, not words.

If Rachel Carson was around to see what an even bigger mess we've made of this planet, it would probably kill her. Read "Silent Spring" and weep. And then blow your nose and get active.



Why am I making this such a big deal here in this spa blog, of all places? Because it's important, it's bigger than the next president (as long as it's not a Republican) and it's spilling into the spa industry.

That's a good thing.

As we all know, women are the true arbiters of change and decision-making. History bears this out and who knows this better than you, the one who makes all those vacation plans? And house buying plans? And food purchasing decisions? And vacation plans? Yes, I know I'm repeating.

Women make the final call when it comes to vacations. And spas are at the top of the "Must Include" list. It's true, because I've read about it in newspapers, magazines and, even on some blogs.



Now, I'm not saying that everything you read is true because I've been a journalist for two decades (give or take ten years) and unfortunately, have learned that even the most doe-eyed, sweet-natured journo is capable of great untruths. Or untruthiness, as Stephen Colbert might say.

But we know this truth to be self-evident: Homo Sapiens is a bummer. Selfish and ego-centric. But we also have the capacity to do great things, make drastic changes and try to save the world.

All I am saying is: give sustainability a chance. It may not be as catchy a phrase as that keen John Lennon song, but it's the word of the year(s) and it's making the rounds.

There are plenty of eco-centric vacation places out there, with spas that are on board and sending up (bio-degradable) flares. The next posts will focus on some of those places. Some I've visited, some I can merely dream about going. But you know what they say about dreams....And like John Lennon, I'm a dreamer.

One who really, really likes Wikipedia.

Spa Dreams

So what have we learned this week?

That not all spas are created equal. Some are more equal than others. And a nod to George Orwell for that one.

Some spas are located in spectacular resorts (Sheraton Wild Horse Pass for one, Fairmont's Banff Springs, for two) and can't help but be visually stunning and restorative. Others are day spas, sometimes in the same buildings as hotels -- Bliss in LA for example is in the W Hotel but under separate ownership. Bliss has other citified sites in big metro areas, but except for New York/LA Bliss, I've rarely had a good spa experience in a day spa.

There, I said it. Remember, it's only one person's opinion, but I have been to a few spas (day and otherwise) and have lots of opinions. Hence, this blog.

So, unless you have good connections, know fabulous therapists who work somewhere (or are one yourself!) you have homework to do before booking your next facial in a day spa. And be sure to let me know if you have good ones to mention here.


Speaking of the "other" excellent day spa I discovered (like Columbus "discovered" America...) I urge any New Yorkers out there to check out the Pratima Skin Care Clinic in Soho. Formerly located in midtown, it's moved since I was last there, and that is a good sign. Not because of the quality of the treatments, but the quality of the neighborhood.

Smack in the middle of Manhattan, close to Carnegie Hall, Pratima had been in a typically boring office building, surrounded by incessantly noisy (what else?) and obnoxious street symphonies. Not the most relaxing locale, but still, the treatments were amazing. Where else could you have found a chemist by profession who switched to skin care after years of treating seriously ill patients in her native India?

Well, this brilliant physician did switch gears and is now one of the most renown beauty/skin care experts on the planet. No kidding. Plus, she treats lots of celebs and you never know who you might run into at the elevator or in her little lobby. Like comedian Lewis Black, for example, who was the opposite of his crazy-guy comedian-self. And he raved about his skin's improvement since visiting her years ago. He looked good to me--skin was perfect!

But I digress. Serious graf to follow.

Dr. Pratima Raichur is a multi-talented physician who parlayed her expertise into a hugely popular skin consultancy and Ayurvedic treatment facility. As in Vatta, Pitta and Kapha constitutions. You've heard of these--like astrology for your body/temperament, and as much fun to read about (even if you don't buy into it) and explore.

In fact, the site (above) offers a fun quiz to determine what your particular body type is. Check it out if you have a couple of minutes.

This little day-spa-that-could offered one of the most unique treatments I've ever experienced. It was a meditation room that contained a massage table draped by scores of hanging Rudraksha bead strings (secured to the ceiling) that sway above you and then become motionless when on the table. It's like magic!

These beads, used for centuries by holy people in India for meditation, gently danced above my positioned prone body until they weirdly calmed down. Except for one strand positioned in the middle of my forehead. It just never stopped moving! Hmmm.....What was that about?

As soothing music played Indian chants and meditation songs, Dr. Pratima herself administered this healing/meditative treatment that was far removed from traditional massage.

Pure meditation and purely restorative. And when I asked about the stubborn strand that never stoped doing the boogie-woogie, her response floored me. "That's your Third Eye over-stimulated," she explained.

Now, I'm not a total hippie-dippie type, but this resonated with me and my relentless over-worked brain. Let's just say I have a hard time calming my thoughts.

What made it weirder (and cooler, I thought) was her additional words. "It happens to me, too."

Soul mates! Or Rudraksha Bead-Mates! It made me feel special, okay? Special in a "why-can't-I-stop-my-brain-from-speed-thinking" special. Anyway, I need to bring that up during my next Shrink session.

I also had a superb total body massage, Abhyanga, topped off (literally) by the most relaxing Shirodhara treatment, during which a warm, cascading stream of essential oils is slowly poured over your aforementioned, so-called Third Eye.

By the way, I threw the link up for your own perusal and it should explain the terms you'll find in this posting. Just in case you're sitting there bewildered, scratching your Third Eye.

I've yet to visit this particular North Carolina spa, although I've heard good things about it and the background music on the Web site is cool..

To sum up, may it please the court, if you're looking for some quiet "me" time that helps free your monkey mind from running the hamster wheel (bad combo metaphors, but I like animals) I suggest you find a spa that offers Shirodhara--you will find no other experience as soothing and tranquil. Unless you like body wraps. If that's the case, we'll just have to agree to disagree.


And, to find a truly magnifico day spa, research the kinds of treatments you like (or think you'll like) and ask questions before making any appointments. And try out Ayurvedic for something completely different.

Questions?

Spa Sojourning

Something about alliteration.....

Why do we love to spa? And when did that word become a verb?

No matter about syntax.

We spa because we seek solace, comfort, peace, relaxation and escape. Yes, escape. From daily stresses, struggles, conflicts and sometimes just for fun. Well, those with disposable income go for fun. The rest of us calculate every dollar we have in exchange for a moment's peace.

Even though I am well taken care of when I visit spas (otherwise, this blog would be about Garage Sales) I am well aware of the exorbitant cost of luxury. So, believe me, I am uber-grateful to have the opportunties to have my flesh pounded, stretched and pummeled. Even when the experience is not as wonderful as expected. Them's the breaks. Stuff happens.

For instance, I experienced an amazing couple of treatments at the chi-chi Island Hotel in Newport Beach, California recently. It was lovely, healing and restorative. Despite the spa having some major design flaws.

The Facial Drench involved all kinds of healing stuff geared towards faces that have been around the block, so to speak.

And given that this is a beach community, where the sun is worshipped daily (not by me, I'm a cave dweller by nature) a good facial is part of residents' beauty routines. So having been around the block once or twice (a steady jog, not too fast) I opted for some relaxing beachy-type treatments and was happily exfoliated, scrubbed clean and essentially oiled.

While at the Island I was treated to the Boreh Bali Spice Remedy, which sounds like a hearty drink enjoyed after a Spice Girls concert. Fortunately, no girly music played as I let myself be "remedied" with all kinds of delicious-smelling stuff. Spicey and citrusy and yummy and soothing. All good stuff. Just too bad the spa was so small it only had one of those dreaded combo lounges.

You know, the kind that's small AND unisex. My favorite. But when I wasn't worrying about this chubby guy (with a too-small robe) getting up for a green tea, I had fun studying some small woman (and they're all small in Newport Beach) all cuddled up in a lounge chair trying to sleep. After a too-close-encounter with Mr. Chubs, I waited in the ladies' locker room until T-time (therapist time) just to avoid another potential eye-bruising.

Before Mr. Chubby-Man-With-A-Too-Small-Robe appeared, I had been enjoying some down time on a comfy lounge chair between treatments and enjoying a delicious (and unexpected) fresh-fruit plate (how'd they know I love fruit?) and chocolate-covered strawberries.

Rifling through the magazines (too old anyway) was a waste of time since the lighting was so dim it was impossible to read, even if your eyes were 20/20. Lighting options must be available in a great spa!

Maybe they dim the lights so you won't have to look at near-naked, beefy, strange men.

Yup, I also had a "Signature" facial and loved every non-exfoliating minute.


Obviously, this was no weight-loss spa (chocolate-covered strawberries?). But the attendants were sweet. And the therapists knew what they were doing. So well, in fact, I can barely remember the details because I was drifting in and out during my "Spice Remedy."

Now if they'd only do something about the coed lounge thing, I'd definitely try this place again. And maybe dare to eat a strawberry.

Another uber-cool Newport Beach spa visited during my last trek was one of my faves: Fairmont Newport Beach's Willow Stream Spa. While the hotel itself is disappointingly NOT near the beach (about a mile or so away) and is in the middle of an industrial park, it still ranks as one of my best recent experiences.

While the spa itself is not as grand as my Banff favorite, it has its definite appeal. The staff is amazing (hey, anyone who employs another "Naomi" ranks high in my book) and professional and the locker space is ample and non-claustraphobic. Important to me and I bet many, many others.

The treatments were stellar--I had a custom massage because of personal medical issues and it gave me great pain relief, albeit short-lived. One caveat however: the room I was in was a tad chillier than hoped for. So, I asked for a temperature adjustment and an extra blanket. Yes, it might make you temporarily feel like a bitch to ask for changes, but a therapist WANTS you to be comfortable so you must speak up.

That's when those warming tables really come in handy. Some spas use these and I think they should be standard everywhere.

You might feel like you're on a hot plate (a warm plate, ideally) but for those like me who can never get warm enough, they are a tremendous asset, but when your resting blood pressure reads "Near Comatose" like mine, every degree upwards iis appreciated. Especially when you're starkers beneath the blankie.

This Fairmont was especially fun, even though the weather was "eh" but because the weather was so dismal, it was actually advantageous staying in a "non-beachy" hotel. I didn't feel like I was getting short-changed by not being within walking distance of the coast since the weather was yuckville.

But I was able to visit some other very upscale spots, definitely not intended for use by the hoi polloi. Of which I am a card-carrying member.

In brief, I spent some time at one of the most exclusive places --Balboa Bay Club & Resort which is member-oriented but also caters to a wealthy hotel clientele. I kept expecting Cary Grant to stroll the dock, ascot-accessorized and wine glass in hand (no Merlot!) but not even his ghost made an appearance.

But for a small spa, this one has plenty to cheer about and if you win the lottery and find yourself down California way, book a facial and you won't regret it.

Why do some small spas make the cut and others just don't get it? Because of inexperienced staff, inept therapists (each state has different requirements...posing a real challenge if you want strongly qualified body-handlers) and bad layout.

Yep, a bad layout can totally throw off the "feng shui" of a spa and you don't even have to understand the practical application of this "placement philosophy" in order to "feel" that something's not quite right in a spa.

So ladies (and the occasional gentlemen), that's it for today. Now it's time to put on a sweater. Brrr.....

Faux Pas

We all screw-up sometimes. Some more than others. Yep, I have my hand up too. It's called "Being Human."

And yet....

When I go to a spa, I don't want screw-ups.
I want a flawless experience, from check-in to air quality (too much incense? not enough essential oil?) to locker room space, to robe-fluffiness, to fantastic magical massage/facial/wrap/what-have-you, to being gently drifted back to landing space of the locker room. Crap. Reality.

So how come I've had more unpleasant spa experiences than I can count? Granted, I'm not a math genius, but I know I've had far too many than necessary.

For instance.


Think a hot rock massage is the answer to your knotted tension? Hah! I know, I know there are plenty of you out there (you know who you are) who swear by the therapeutic benefits of warm rocks placed on chakras/meridans/marma points/whatevers and Good for You!

That is wonderful! I'm so proud!

But I will never go near one of those River Rock suckers again. Unless I'm by a river and I see a cool-looking rock. Then I'll look at it, think some existential thought, and leave it alone! I don't want to warm it up and I certainly don't want it on my back for $95 an hour. I mean 50 minutes.

For those of you new to the column (and Shirley, I jest) I have had hot rocks dropped on my head during an awful (cold,-then-hot room/scratchy-nailed thrapist, you name it, it sucked) Hot Rocks Massage .


It hurt.

Hot hurt. Flat River Rock Bruising Hot. Then Nervous Nellie proceeded to drop the remaining loose HUGE rocks and the entire tray o' rocks onto the floor. A floor more reminiscent of a high school gym locker than a spa.

Ever sine then, I don't do rocks. Warm blankets, towels, old flannel sheets-- sure why not? Just nothing that weighs more than three ounces. Tops. No more ammunition-massage.


Which brings me to the Faux in the Pas. I've also had a nice buzz going from a soothing Acupressure, when Hello! The door opens and some random dudette wanders in. Whoops!

Talk about mood-buster. Try getting back into the Zone after an intrusion like that. For women, it's like re-gaining focus when, uh, something gets interrupted in the domicile. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

Anyway. You all think that "Spa Writing" is so glam, so amazing. And you'd all be making a Faux Pas.

But you know what? If I can learn to forgive myself my own trespasses, I sure can forgive you.

Rock On, just carefully.

Why Don't Dogs Have Cellulite?

Just asking.

Seems that the latest spa trend (this week) is some kind of slimming, de-wrinkling or cellulite-busting "treatment" that promises instant results! great toned muscles! no more cottage-cheese knees! or something equally ridiculous!

I've seen these anti-cellulite "treatments" featuring scary close-ups of Spandex-clad butts and they scare me just as much as you. Why do you think I don't wear spandex in public? All those papparazzi just waiting to catch me at Rite Aid, snatching some laxatives and birth-control tests. Oh wait, that's Britney.

Never mind.

Back to back fat. No one's perfect (I'm the first to admit that one) and cellulite can't be tamed into submission. Cellulite is merely fat on steroids. Fed by Cheetos, S'mores and Nutty Buddies. And all those other delicious things we're not supposed to eat in excess.

And no spa treatment touting its eradication is worth the paper it's touted on.

You want to get rid of that....stuff? Then you have to give up the extra goodies and start some kind of exercise program. At your own personal comfort level.

That's it. No magic bullet, potion or "target treatment" is going to dislodge those peaks and valleys from "your secret shame" and that's the truth. And if "Posh" Spice and JLo purportedly have "dimply knees" then there's absolutely no hope for us mere mortals.

For one thing, "Posh" probably weighs about 70 pounds and JLo is still pregnant, isn't she? Leave their knees alone! I have to stop reading those celebrity blogs...my new addiction. But at least I weaned off Snickers...

So, either learn to love those dimples (think of them as Viggo's chins) and stop tormenting yourself, or do the sensible thing. As in, don't waste money by going for multiple treatments (because they're ALWAYS multiple) promising the impossible. To speak in the vernacular, it ain't gonna happen lady.

Spas are sanctuaries for the souls, respites for the weary and ideally should be sacred places that make you feel BETTER (not worse) about your body, mind and spirit.

So, when you notice a particular spa that promotes eradication of the dreaded "C"-word, run away as fast as you can. And book a facial at Bliss--just ignore the uh, special "C" creams they proudly advertise and ask for the most experienced therapist on board.

If you're in the LA area, that would be a tiny, yet fierecely amazing expert named Kat. Tell her I sent you.

And throw out that Spandex.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch Changes......

Sorry David Bowie, it just came to me as I thought about entering some pearls today.

Caution: Short Lecture ahead. I warned you.



Seems we're all on this journey leading somewhere.

Our task (should we choose to accept it) is to figure out what we're doing here.

You know, as sage daughter Emily penned at age five, "The Whole Big."

Our paths may be snowflake-different yet we share DNA. And before anyone decides to bail on this entry cause of sophormoric references, here comes the Spa part:

The best spa will instantly reveal itself without truding. A softness in the air, a slight scent the opposite of old-lady perfume. Soft-speakers who aren't close-talkers. Respectful ambience. Vast locker rooms with goodies at the sinks. Lotions, hair-bands, deodorant (yes!), hair stuff and sterile brushes. No mildew. (Real important.)

Certified therapists, silent angels, find and release your tightest knot. Scalp massage so potent you cry. Warm, clean towels and fluffy robes. Roomy, soft slippers (good luck finding those) and plenty of room to change. Options for the clinically shy.

Sauna that works. Steam rooms that don't stink.

And clean clean clean.

Then the body can heal and make way for a radical ch-ch-ch.....you know.

Happy Year of the Rat, Ben!

Mind/Body/Heart

Some people go to spas for a good massage. Others for "miracle" facials. Me? I try and find those that address not only the touchy-feely-in-the-moment need, but go beyond the pale.

Meaning what, exactly?

Well, there are myriad spas out there that do the basics really, really well. Great massage therapists, sweet-smelling surroundings, cool snacks and teas and amazing vistas for all your Kodak moments. You could come up with an impressive list just by "Googling" the word spa.

And those are usually fine. Except when stones get dropped on your head, unisex "relaxation" lounges reveal more than necessary and air temperatures make all your little hairs stand on end. But I digress.

Let's just say it's not always satisfying to have a "good enough" experience.

Sometimes, the heart needs healing too.

When worries and stress threaten to destroy any semblance of "balance" you've managed to cultivate. Or when chronic pain throws you into a bottomless pit of sad.

You name it, we've all got baggage. I've got luggage galore, usually well-packed when it isn't being ripped apart by over-zealous TSA handlers.

And for those needs I seek unusual spas that meld compassionate healing hands with programs that challenge, nurture and encourage wellness.

Some in the industry deem them "Medi-Spas" or "Wellness Facilities" or something similarly trendy. But Caveat Emperor--you know, buyer beware. Because some of these facilities are so identity-confused, they fail to truly reveal their true purpose and thousands of dollars later, the spa-seeker is still adrift with major neck pain.

So how to figure out this confusing quandry? For one thing, if you opt for a "Medi Spa" or wellness destination, do your homework. Ask questions about philosophy (sometimes found on websites) and scour the menu of programs and activities that best suit your needs. And find out WHERE the place is located. Nothing gets ruined faster than strolling the grounds and discovering the resort is in a suburban neighborhood!

I once visited a VERY famous spa (with a few locations) that offered treatments up the wazoo. Not literally, I might add. But some will offer quasi-medi advice for conditions you didn't know you had. Or sign you up for a foot evaluation from staff who ALSO try to sell you sneakers (!) or a session with a shrink because, well, they thought it would be good for you. Sometimes, less is more. A lesson some spas could take to the next policy meeting.

Just keep in mind that your needs will change each time you visit a spa, because YOU will have changed. Things happen. People change. Needs change. A fantastic spa visit years ago may not necessarily evoke the same reaction when you return.

It's like going back to the old neighborhood as an adult. Everything's smaller and disappointing, no matter how much you try to rationalize it. This analogy doesn't mean every return visit to a spa will be a disappointment. But be prepared to encounter changes, especially if new owners are on the scene and/or renovations are taking place.

That kind of disruption generally results in staff turnover and sometimes it takes awhile for a spa to get its "soul" back.

For example, I visited one of my hands-down favorite spa, Mii amo, about a year ago. It was a glorious time. A freak snowstorm, gorgeous red mountains, a much-needed healing environment and incredible staff resulted in one the most wonderfully memorable experiences I've ever had.

If I could have moved to Sedona right then and there, I would have.

And I have a feeling that Mii amo would deliver exactly the same qualities if I re-visited anytime soon. Because Sedona (in my Tucson backyard) is one of those magical places where everything simply feels right.

It's a destination that oozes other-worldliness and serenity. Picture a "town" of such utter beauty that you could cry when the sun sets. (Guilty!)

And this amazing spa is engaged in a symbiotic dance augmented by gorgeous natural visions and a healing agenda centered on wellness.

Even with programs that may sound a little silly (toe-reading?) and eye-rolling (color-reading?) this is a destination you can't help but feel healed by. Long considered a sacred spot by Native Americans, displaced hippies, artists and creators, Sedona
speaks to my soul (forgive my '60s-speak) and was a powerful antidote to major stressors that needed to be dealt with last year.

And maybe it's time for a tune-up.

As for other "Medi-Spas" and the like, tread very, very carefully and do your homework. Or I'll do it for you.

Super Spa Tuesday

Of course, we all voted and did our civic duty. Right? Right?

Truthfully, I promise to do so as soon as I finish this. Hey, no one's perfect. Even spa-bloggers and especially editors who shall remain nameless.

Now on to more important things: where shall I spa (use as verb, thank you) next? Seems like one of those no-brainer questions. And yet.....

Temptation calls from some favorite Scottsdale resorts visited in the past and I may have to take the call. Like the much-lauded Phoenician which offers an eclectic menu of treatments and la-de-dah surroundings. Then there's the Fairmont's Princess.....deserving of a re-visit anytime. And the amazing Wild Horse Pass Resort, an homage to Native Americana and a wonderful destination that offers Native American history throughout its massive spread.

Now that the football masses have made a grand exit, leaving only those die-hard Coyotes (hockey) fans to clean up the mess, it might be time for a road-trip "North." Yes, Phoenix and its Scottsdale 'burb is North of our homestead in Tucson, and therefore very drivable from our new locale.

But alas, this is to be a short post as I must go and do my civic duty and make my vote count. Here's hoping for a better outcome than the last time......

Moody Monday

At least we won't have to pretend to watch football anymore this year.



And, for almost an entire half-day, my tv did NOT show hockey games ad nauseum!



Trust me, that was a Good thing. And the Giants won and all was well in New York/underdog-land.



But, it feels like a Moody Monday anyway. Where it's hard to be in your own skin. When all you want is to surrender to a licensed and certified massage therapist. To relinquish all the tension and stored muscle aches that have been gnawing at you all day. All week. All month. You get it.



That's today. A day of pain, rain, hail and clenched everything. If I had a druther, I'd be in Fairmont's Banff Springs in that gorgeous outpost of mountainous splendor. Where cliches and metaphors were born. The pristine surroundings need new words. New Adjectives.



That spa was magic. Those hands were gifted. Do I hear a siren call?





Ta.

Super Saturday

It's not that Super. Just the day before some big football game. Like anyone watches THAT.





Yes, I'm a tad delusional, but no one's perfect.





On to random spa thoughts. Right now, even in the relative warmth of Tucson (relative compared to frosty Sea Cliff, New York, for example) I am always amazed how beautiful the natural world is. The birds, the mountains, the desert...all forces that inspire, motivate and keep me keeping on.





Especially when days are filled with aches and pains of, you know, the usual. Which is why a good spa can bring so much pleasure and solace despite physical limitations. For instance, I've often had to deal with a sometimes-debilitating condition that prevents me from enjoying the simplest of pleasures.





Like taking a hot bath or drinking some warm tea. Yet, somehow, if I'm in the right environment, the right spa, surrounded by others seeking health and relief from stress, the pain takes a back seat and all's well.





These are the spas that employ compassionate healers, (licensed, natch) understanding therapists and enough space to encourage good health. It sounds like I have a glam "job" but trust me, tain't always so. Not that I'm complaining. Just reporting. Some spas are amazing-fantastic and others are, well, awful. Like a recent day-spa I visited that had a changing "room" the size of a small walk-in closet. No privacy to change. Just a bunch of wealthy designer matrons disrobing their Juicy jeans and banging into my knees with their over-sized bag-of-the-month.



This was a day spa of stellar repute and it was awful. No privacy, teeny weeny sink areas, stuffy and crowded. The facial was good, but the stress of getting to it, "relaxing" and then having to deal with the locker room ladies again, well, it undid any benefit previously gained.



Couldn't wait to get out of that place, which reeked of scented candles (too much in confined spaces=bad smells) and expensively nauseating perfume. Have yet to go to a day spa I'd recommend, with the exception of one particular Red Door at the Westin La Paloma which is housed separately from the resort. Fantastic therapist--Denise--gave the best massage and was hilarious on top of that. So there's the "exception-to-the-rule" clause about day spas.



But, of course, it wasn't a typical day spa. Moving on.....





Without getting all preachy-dramatic, there have been a few of those I would whole-heartedly recommend. Of course, some of those spas may be different now, be under renovation or change-over. All I know is what I experienced and I wanted to share some with you now.





When I visited Miraval a while back, it was everything I looked for in a spa. Vast, unspoiled desert, welcoming and open-aired entrances and delightful staff. Although there were some problems with the spa set-up (...you had to ride an elevator to get to the treatment rooms! Elevator light! The Horror, the horror!) I still remember getting one of the best massages ever from Manny. But the shared (unisex, yuck) relaxation area was anathema to feeling relaxed and the layout of the place was less than stellar.



Regardless, the other programs offered here at the time (an amazing Equine adventure with this cowboy guy Wyatt, for one) and the unbelievably delicious and healthy (!) cuisine just trumped any negatives. If I had some druthers I'd be back there in a heartbeat, but apparently there's some big re-do going on, so who knows when that will happen.



But this spa typified to me, at the time, everything I was looking for: privacy, respect, professional staff and compassionate personnel. Plus some fantastic mountains, the desert, the sweatlodge experience, the whole big. It was, in fact, a tremendous factor in my family's relocation to the Southwest. Compared to living in New York, it wasn't a hard decision. Difficult to bring to fruition, but inevitable in its conclusion.



And learning to Be Here Now (sorry about the hippie-dippie stuff) is still one of my greatest challenges. Along with dealing with occasional unsavory types in the industry. But I persevere, knowing that at least someone is out there struggling to get through the day, looking for a laugh, learning about a cool spa or even searching for common ground.



Before I dash to the Super Market (bad football joke, sorry) here's one more spa to check out. As I've mentioned before, anytime you see Willow Stream and Fairmont linked together, go and ye shall be healed. I recently returned from Newport Beach's Fairmont (California) and for a place that's not even near the water, it has alot to offer. Details another time. Just make sure you have the therapist adjust the room temperature immediately. Don't be shy, it's your right.



Am I rambling? Yes. But it's Super Saturday and if I can't go to a spa today, at least I can ramble my heart out.



Get your chips on! Go Giants! I mean Go Patriots!

Disregard Previous Blog

Remember that saying about "A Woman's Perogative..."?


Well, let's just say I'm using my perogative and staying in the game. Blog game, that is.

So to you (hi Theddy!) who are all relieved by my reappearance, a hearty thanks. And to the rest of the world as we know it, you never even knew I was gone, so continue doing whatever it is you do.

That said, why did I return? Many, many reasons that won't be divulged here just yet. Or maybe never. Suffice it to say, a decision was made (by me, natch) that an outlet that would be fun, no-holds-barred (maybe some holds barred) and perhaps even controversial (oooo) is the best way for me to deal with....stuff in the Spa (and other) world.

So, this will be a nifty little outlet to merely point out things and perhaps provoke some creative discourse among you. Discourse away!

Here's one reason I re-booted this blog: SPA LOUNGES & PRIVACY:

So what is up with spas that still have UNISEX "relaxation" rooms? Don't those spa managers "get it"?

That women DO NOT enjoy "relaxing" in supposedly tranquil settings (cue the Enya music) with healthy snacks, lemony water and teas and GUYS BARELY keeping their robes together?!?!?!?!

There's nothing worse (ok, maybe some things are worse) than washing off all traces of makeup for your facial, getting all snuggly, nakedly warm in your over-sized robe, being led down a quite hallway to a "room" (or alcove) and discovering some snoring, legs akimbo GUY is IN YOUR SPOT!!!!

YUCK!

I recently had the "pleasure" of attending a lovely spa (which shall remain nameless because I'm not slamming the hand that feeds me) that not only had a teeny weeny lounge space (four chaise-size) but just when I was getting my second refill of nuts and berries, here struts in a barrel-chester.

You know the type. Big beer-gutted, crazy, long grey disheveled hair who sheepishly wandered into the "alcove" and recognized a colleague. Probably from a convention on site. She seemed slightly embarrassed to catch him in his robed manliness, unkempt and spilling out of his chaise. Female colleague self-consciously closed her robe tighter.

"I didn't realize this was a unisex lounge!" I heard someone say. Probably me.

Yup, sure was. Gratefully, the guy had a decent sense of unease and when his friend asked him if he wanted a drink he replied. "I do, but I'm afraid to get up."

To which I replied, "And for that, we are all grateful."

The actual facial was a relief, just to get away from this uncomfortable scene. From now on, I suggest asking BEFOREHAND if there are separate lounges at the spa of your choice.

That's now on my Top Ten What-to-Ask-About-Your-Planned-Spa-Visit list.

Other than that, the play was fine, Mrs. Lincoln.

BTW, feel free anytime to comment on this blog. If I can figure out how to write a new post every fortnight, you can work the keyboard. And an angel will get her wings everytime you write.

Next time!