
Darling, let’s talk spas, shall we? Are you the kind of girl who considers a facial a basic human right, or do you just pop in for a quick dip (and I mean quick) when your roots need a little…oomph? Me? Well, let’s just say I have standards. Not astronomical, mind you, but definitely high enough to warrant a full-body shudder when things go south. And honey, this weekend? South it went.
Picture this: It’s the first of Ireland’s glorious bank holiday weekends (2025, of course, we’re living in the future!), and yours truly is craving a little me time. A massage was the dream, but last-minute bookings being what they are (aka, a nightmare), I snagged a facial at the Escape Spa in the Imperial Hotel, Cork. A familiar haunt, a city-centre staple. I knew what to expect…or so I thought.
Now, I’m a girl who arrives early. Spa facilities, darling! Tiny pool, steam rooms…the usual suspects. Except, something was off. Two steam rooms, but no sauna? A bit like having two Birkins and no Louboutins – just wrong. And speaking of wrong, let’s talk about the steam. Ever since I banished fluoride from my life (seriously, get a reverse-osmosis filter, it’s life-changing!), steam rooms are a no-go. All that tap water vapor? I’d rather not breathe it in, thank you very much. Saunas, on the other hand? Bring it on! But alas, not here.
Anyway, back to the décor. Darling, “grubby” doesn’t even begin to cover it. A single, scratched-up toilet seat in the changing room? Tragic. Missing tiles and questionable stains in the steam room? Horrifying. And don’t even get me started on the hair clinging to the wall in the other steam room. Ewww!
And the pool! My eyes were burning like I’d just walked through a chlorine factory. Honestly, in this day and age, shouldn’t we be moving towards more natural pools? Inchadony Health and Spa gets it with their thalassotherapy pool. It’s the future, people!
But, like a ray of sunshine through the grimy clouds, there was Victoria. My facialist, my angel. We bonded over our shared disdain for fluoride (a woman after my own heart!). The facial itself? Divine. My skin was positively radiant. Like I’d just emerged from a cloud of pure, unadulterated fabulousness.
So, the verdict? I’ll be back for Victoria’s magic touch, but the facilities? They need a serious intervention. A facelift, if you will. Until then, darlings, I’ll be sticking to facials and dreaming of a spa day that doesn’t involve questionable stains and rogue hairs. Because, let’s face it, life’s too short for anything less than pure, unadulterated bliss.
0 Comments