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By Malachy Duffy
WOMEN TOLD ME
NOTHING FELT BETTER
I'd heard other guys rave about it. So I went to a day
spa. Why
had I hesitated? Well, What if I were the only man,
surrounded by a Clare Boothe Luce bunch of terry-robed
women with high-Kabuki creams all over their faces glaring
at me for having penetrated the santum sanctorum? What
if it were too New Age-y, with Enya-esque warbling in
the background and overly sincere attendants hoping
to "share" with me.
No, I was assured. Trust. Believe. Go.
So on the very strong recommendations of several friends,
I booked a day at The Peninsula Spa in midtown Manhattan.
That it is affilitated with the superb Peninsula Hotel
eased my anxiety; the Peninsula organization does everything
very, very well and this spa was no exception.
The setting was lovely: hunter green carpets, soft lighting,
rich wood accesnts - and no New Age chanting in the
background, just some very gentle Beethoven. Everything
was low-key, elegant, luxurious. And there were other
men, all looking very content..
TAKING
THE PLUNGE
 Being
a little early, I decided to go swimming first in the
penthouse pool, with great views of midtown and Central
Park. As I paddled along at a leisurely pace, I glanced
out one of the windows and watched Trump Tower. I never
thought I'd see it while doing the back stroke.
After a quick whirlpool and basting in the steam room,
I could have gone home for a nap feeling that all was
well with the world. But my first massage awaited. I
know people who can't live without them - I've been
converted.
RUBBING
IT IN
I laid down on a padded table, then the masseur spread
some oil on my back and started rubbing, first long
strokes, then short, stronger ones at the shoulders
and lower back - the two areas where it feels like the
muscles have twisted up in to hard little knots. I could
feel them melting away, like bits of ice evaporating
under the sun
FACING
IT
Next,
a gentlemans' facial, that is, a facial specially formulated
for a man. The treatment room, in many ways, epitomized
an appealing feature. It was absolutely clean, almost
surgically so, making me feel that whatever was going
to be done would help me.
Once again, I laid down. Now here's the truth. My skin
is a problem. Just say dirt, and something bad happens
to my skin. So I wanted to see what a facial would do.
I thought I'd get a quick wipe of something here, a
rub of something there, a little scrub, a little goo
and that would be that.
Instead, I was treated to a soothing ritual of impressive
precision. First, my face was massaged with a cleansing
chamomile lotion to get off the surface grime. Then
there was a little "extraction," a refined
expression for unclogging pores. Then, the application
of an enzyme paste that, when subjected to steam, would
activate and dissolve dead skin cells followed by with
the application of a sheet of freeze-dried seaweed that,
when damped, conformed to my face as a cooling masque.
After the masque came off, a soothing facial massage
with a wonderful moisturizer. I almost went to sleep.
IT'S
A WRAP
However, I had one more treatment awaiting: the new
enzyme body peel. This is basically the same as the
facial, but it covers everything. After showering with
a mild exfoliant, I had to lie face down on top of a
Mylar-like sheet similar to those silvery things they
give runners after marathons to retain body heat. I
was slathered with a cleanser and an enzyme, then wrapped
the silvery sheet, then a cover sheet. Heat, needed
to activate the enzyme, came from a hot pad underneath
me (I felt very much like a baked potato - which is
perhaps a wonderfully odd apotheosis for an Irishman).
Once "done," I had to shower and was then
rubbed with a smooth moisturizer.
My honest reaction? I felt sensational, relaxed comfortable,
pampered, at peace. I enjoyed every bit of it. In retrospect,
I would do massage first, then body peel with facial
last. But that is a minor point. The setting was serene,
the people kind and gentle...dare I say, it was like
a little bit of Heaven?
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CELEBRITY VISITS
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