The hair salon in front is turquoise and silver. The spa is in back, with a tabletop fountain gurgling in the waiting area and the ubiquitous Enya-type soundtrack playing.
The spa offers facials, body treatments, massages, manicures, and waxing. There is a changing room with lockers and a body treatment room that leads directly into a bathroom with a steam shower. As I was having only a facial, I slipped out of my top and into a terrycloth wrap right in the treatment room.
Françoise, the aesthetician, had a wall full of diplomas and certificates—most of them in French. She asked me about my health, my skin, and my skincare routine. I explained that five months ago I had had a mini facelift and hadn’t had a facial since. She recommended the spa’s signature facial ($105), which includes “oxygen therapy.”
The spa also offers facials with collagen, vitamin C, or serious exfoliants. A doctor comes in to do microdermabrasion and Thermage, a treatment that uses radiofrequency to tighten skin and promote collagen production.
Françoise cleaned my face and used a rotating brush to slough away dead skin. She did extractions of clogged pores and, using a gentle but sure touch, massaged my face, neck, and hands. After a hydrating mask, Françoise ran a wand over my face, and I got my blast of oxygen. A multivitamin serum was smoothed over my face and I emerged with dewy, soft skin. It stayed that way for days.
Facials are tricky—I hate to put my face in the wrong hands. I have had pleasant, love-pat facials, facials where my pores screamed for mercy, and facials featuring masks that seemed to stay on for so long that they hardened into stone.
This was one of the best.