I’m not a spa person
I love a good massage every now and then, especially if it comes in the form of a gift certificate, however my trip to Elizabeth Arden yesterday showed me that while I can enjoy a full-spa experience, I'm partial to a quality day of retail therapy...I had to put a gift cert to use before it expired and yesterday was my day. I went home early the night before and planned my Sunday out carefully to ensure I could savor every waking moment of my relaxation experience.
Elizabeth Arden Red Doors Spa is a bit of a New York landmark. It’s located on Fifth Avenue and represents everything a spa should be. A zen-like interior with dark woods, pale flowers, cascading water and strange music emanating from a carefully hidden sound system.
I walked in and changed into my robe and slippers and was promptly whisked away to receive an hour long Swedish massage. My entire body got a full kneading, but for some reason I left feeling unsatiated. The only nice part was the use of hot stones...novel concept! Regardless, I'm convinced that the tiny woman who gave me my massage paled in comparison to all the more satisfying massages I’ve received from ex-boyfriends. Who knows, but my back still hurts.
Whatever. It was free.
After my massage, I had to go to a different floor to receive my facial. I had been looking forward to this because I’d never had a facial before. I figured...”I’m at Elizabeth Arden, might as well go for broke and try it.” As I was drinking my hot tea, a tiny (and entirely too pretty) Russian gal named Tanya walked up to me and took me into a treatment room.
Over the next hour my face was cleansed, moisturized, exfoliated, masked, extracted and massaged. It was nice, but similarly to my massage, I wasn’t impressed. After it was all over I felt no different than I do on a quality Sunday night of self-pampering - only I’d have a glass of wine in hand to boot.
As I was walking out to change, any relaxation I had achieved was killed when tiny Tanya tried to sell me product. Definitely time to go.
I left Elizabeth Arden and walked out into the hustle and bustle of holiday 5th Avenue foot traffic and was quickly reminded why I like to live above 96th Street.
All in all, it was nice, but perhaps the whole spa thing isn’t my thing? Frankly, it didn’t hold a torch to the eucalyptus-oil-infused, white-tiled steam room at my gym. It’s much less hoity and I can relax looking like I rolled out of bed (or off the treadmill). Definitely more my speed.
So, from now on my "spa-experience" will consist of my usual mani/pedi followed by sharing a bottle of vino with gal-pals over hot crostini and an assortment of cheese...
Elizabeth Arden Red Doors Spa is a bit of a New York landmark. It’s located on Fifth Avenue and represents everything a spa should be. A zen-like interior with dark woods, pale flowers, cascading water and strange music emanating from a carefully hidden sound system.
I walked in and changed into my robe and slippers and was promptly whisked away to receive an hour long Swedish massage. My entire body got a full kneading, but for some reason I left feeling unsatiated. The only nice part was the use of hot stones...novel concept! Regardless, I'm convinced that the tiny woman who gave me my massage paled in comparison to all the more satisfying massages I’ve received from ex-boyfriends. Who knows, but my back still hurts.
Whatever. It was free.
After my massage, I had to go to a different floor to receive my facial. I had been looking forward to this because I’d never had a facial before. I figured...”I’m at Elizabeth Arden, might as well go for broke and try it.” As I was drinking my hot tea, a tiny (and entirely too pretty) Russian gal named Tanya walked up to me and took me into a treatment room.
Over the next hour my face was cleansed, moisturized, exfoliated, masked, extracted and massaged. It was nice, but similarly to my massage, I wasn’t impressed. After it was all over I felt no different than I do on a quality Sunday night of self-pampering - only I’d have a glass of wine in hand to boot.
As I was walking out to change, any relaxation I had achieved was killed when tiny Tanya tried to sell me product. Definitely time to go.
I left Elizabeth Arden and walked out into the hustle and bustle of holiday 5th Avenue foot traffic and was quickly reminded why I like to live above 96th Street.
All in all, it was nice, but perhaps the whole spa thing isn’t my thing? Frankly, it didn’t hold a torch to the eucalyptus-oil-infused, white-tiled steam room at my gym. It’s much less hoity and I can relax looking like I rolled out of bed (or off the treadmill). Definitely more my speed.
So, from now on my "spa-experience" will consist of my usual mani/pedi followed by sharing a bottle of vino with gal-pals over hot crostini and an assortment of cheese...
posted by Lisa @ 12:21 PM
2 Comments:
i'm a confirmed massage slut.
i've done the red door, i've even had massage therapists coming to ME to give me massages.
i agree -- the Red Door isn't all it's cracked up to be.
but honestly, i'm still a huge fan of the cheap chinatown massages. best kept secret.
I've never had a massage. I'm curious, but also worried about the ticklish thing.
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