I wanted to love Celadon. I’d heard good things about it from friends, and the menu of face and body treatments looked fun. When I arrived, I found the shelves lined with a rainbow of candles, soaps, and lotions from boutique lines like Molton Brown, Red Flower, and Calypso. Heaven for a girly-girl.
But when I checked in for my apple-and-paprika facial ($120), I waited 15 minutes for someone to fetch me. (The aesthetician was running late, but the gaggle of receptionists never said a word.) The aesthetician apologized and showed me to the faintly lit treatment room. I climbed under the warm blankets, and she immediately started slathering without really taking time to look at my skin.
She rubbed my face and neck with apple pulp, a deep exfoliator. She covered that with a thick slick of paprika. The mixture became warm and tingly, and soon my face was emanating heat. While the concoction set in, she did a fast, lotiony hand and arm massage. I’d forgotten to take off my rings and watch, and she rubbed right over them.
Much of the facial involved sitting under masks, and my aesthetician passed the time shuffling papers behind me. The massages felt nice but seemed rushed. The “calming” stonecrop mask that followed the apple-paprika treatment burned. The towels used for the brisk ruboffs were too hot. Extractions were done suddenly, without asking.
When the facial was over, she presented me with a long list of Ole Henriksen product recommendations, all sold at Celadon. To her credit, she gave me samples and wasn’t pushy.
Ann Limpert joined Washingtonian in late 2003. She was previously an editorial assistant at Entertainment Weekly and a cook in New York restaurant kitchens, and she is a graduate of the Institute of Culinary Education. She lives in Petworth.
