spa days



What I did: spent a day at an upscale spa in an uncomfortably Trump-y part of Florida (Air Force One sat on the tarmac of the local airport while we were there, and can you believe that 45’s had it trimmed in gold leaf!? #FAKENEWS). And then, when our flight was cancelled by a snowstorm, we went back for a second day.


What I did beforehand: the heavenly theme of this spa requires that you have a near-death experience to visit. It’s ok, though, because as long as you exit through the gift shop you can resume your life. You’ll just be all refreshed and shit, and maybe have a fresh coat of turquoise toenail polish.


What I wore: a black lady’s bathing suit with a built-in bra and a shirred bodice that I bought from Nordstrom years ago when I was a loyal customer, long before the latest kerfuffle where people were all pissed that like Nordie was carrying the Pussy Grabber’s Major Love Interest’s clothing line and so I and a bunch of other pearl-clutching, freaked out  ninnies got all upset about the Dignity of the Office and cancelled our accounts with them via unnecessarily tart emails but then I guess like Nordie figured out that their customers don’t buy Ivanka’s crap anyway so now the Moneyed Liberal Ladies of America have released their collective grip on the pearls and are shopping at Nordie’s again. I mean, who can keep up with this shit? But also, the spa provided white robes to wear, and wear them we did.

It was fizzy. And pink.

Who went with me: my barn friends S. and K. our new German friend D., and S.’s old friend L. We were supposed to make this wish and put a floating candle in the little pool and stuff but like I threw my wish away on someone else the first day so it was a good thing we went back so I could make that wish just for me me me.

How I got there: the first day was planned, the second was on account of weather-related re-grouping.


Why I saw this show: I’ve been thinking about the Welcome to the Afterlife Teas my mother has been hosting with Oliver Sacks, and thought this might be where she sees Julia Child for planning meetings and then gets a facial and a manicure with her signature clear polish.

Where I sat: on a heated chaise made of tile, on a swing over a fountain, on a pile of green throw pillows, in the steam room, and on a pedicure throne.


Things that were sad: that it had to end.

Things that were funny: the Self-Centered Garden. Staff wearing fairy wings. 

Things that were not funny: there is no longer truth or fiction. There is just alternative facts. 

Something I ate: a lobster roll on the beach, with Due South Brewing Caramel Cream Ale 5%.

What it is: a deluxe resort and day spa called Eau Spa, in West Palm Beach. Right on the ocean, with several restaurants, and a pool, this hotel looks pretty luxurious (we didn’t see any guest rooms on our visit). I did see the gym facilities and take a yoga class by the beach, which was well-attended and skillfully led. I found it challenging to hear the instructor over the roar of the surf (this is actually praise and not criticism). The spa is a world into itself, with a women’s side and a men’s side (that one of my friends wandered into accidentally and was escorted out of). They have a full-service salon, hot tub, steam room, sauna, relaxation garden, and cupcakes.


Who should see it: babymooners, bachelorettes, reunion attendees, equestrians, and spa aficionados who expect the fullest of service experiences.

What I saw on the way home: one last look at the ocean.

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