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O Spa
by Karen B. Gibbs
photography by Abby Sands Miller
Ladies, drop those mops, call the sitter and write at the top of your to-do list: “Take care of me!”
That’s the message Sandy Franco, founder of the newly opened O Spa, is sending out to area women (and men). Sandy says her main goal in the new venture is to create a new spa culture where going to the spa is no longer considered an indulgence, but rather a social and personal responsibility. “In today’s society, the fast pace of life revolves around meetings, deadlines, picking up and dropping off kids and getting your to-do list done,” she says. “The demands on your time, your body, your mind and your spirit are in desperate need of a time out!” She believes that by emphasizing relaxation and pleasure, a spa experience rejuvenates and restores one’s health in body, mind and soul. “It will actually make you more productive and ready to get back out there on the field and play the game of life.”
Sounds good, doesn’t it? But are you convinced that you need to regularly schedule time to refresh your weary self? Sandy unwittingly caused me to reflect on my own program of rejuvenation when she threw down the challenge, “You can’t possibly write about O Spa unless you’ve experienced it.” With that she handed me a sky blue O Spa appointment card for two and a half hours of “being good to myself time” on the following day.
Prior to going to O Spa, “pamper” and “myself” were rarely companions in my daily vocabulary. Truly, the thought of setting aside 150 minutes free from phones, chores and responsibilities was at once appealing and disconcerting. I’d never had a professional massage or a facial and I really wanted to experience them both, but I kept feeling it was selfish to indulge myself in this way.
That’s exactly the mindset Sandy Franco hopes to dispel with O Spa. “I like to think of it as ‘a place to go to get away from the asphyxia of life and leave one’s daily existence behind.’ I don’t know who said it, but I like the wording of that quote,” she reflects, repeating, “… the asphyxia of life.”
Before creating this idyllic place on the second floor of Franco’s Athletic Club, Sandy traveled the world visiting spas, attending seminars and reading everything she could on the subject. She founded O Spa, which was 10 years in the making, as a luxurious oasis of personal rejuvenation and rest—a place that is not only non-threatening, but also delightfully lavish. From the exquisite furnishings in each of the seven treatment rooms to the Manhattan-edgy décor that defines the nail care area, this spa says posh and says it with élan. I admit that as soon as I stepped into the bright, airy reception area, I was impressed. No doubt, this would be an experience to remember.
Curious as to what happened next? Come on, I’ll relive it with you. Just remember, leave your cares and worries at the door.
First Impressions
A few minutes before my appointment time, I step off the elevator and into O Spa. The nail technician greets me with a friendly hello, and then notifies Susan Kujawa, 12-year veteran aesthetician, of my arrival. To my surprise, there is a man enjoying the spa’s state-of-the-art massage chair near the reception area. Keith Haydel, owner of Chainsawman Tree Service, tells me he’s just toured the spa and is now relaxing. The chair, O Spa’s gift to guests, encourages regular visits. Adjoining this spa hors d’oeuvre is the pristine nail care area. Occupying center stage is an overstuffed white leather pedicure recliner. Cozy and comfortable looking, it’s a far cry from the functional black pedestal-based chairs I’ve seen in most nail salons. The thick, glass-topped manicure bar is equally inviting. Designed so friends can share conversation while getting their nails done, it offers a unique combination of function and friendship.
My visual tour is interrupted as Susan enters. She welcomes me warmly, waves her hand grandly over this part of the spa and says with obvious pride, “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I agree, feeling the butterflies in my stomach settle down as I follow her to the door leading to the treatment area of the spa.
Into the Calm
“We call this the Transition Room,” she explains, preceding me into a quiet, softly lit retreat. With the closing of the door, I immediately begin to relax. Perhaps it is the chocolate-colored walls or the comfortable feel of the brown leather couch that induces this mood. Whatever the reason, it is slowing me down noticeably. It is then I hear the whisper of music—unfamiliar, yet soothing —that lulls me into a deeper feeling of peace.
“Can I prepare a cup of tea for you?” a voice softly queries. Standing before me, serene and gentle, is Lydia deGaleana, certified massage therapist (24 years of experience), reflexologist and aroma therapist. She brews a cup of almond biscotti tea and presents it to me in a clear glass cup etched with inspirational phrases. The tea is wonderful—fragrant, tasty and the perfect temperature for sipping. While I savor the tea, Susan selects the perfect products for my facial based on a questionnaire I’d previously submitted.
“Would you like to come this way?” Susan invites. As we walk toward the facial room, I find myself enjoying the pleasant sound of our footsteps on the dark wooden floors. Whoa! Totally not typical Type A behavior! I realize this experience is moving me into the unfamiliar territory of total relaxation. (This is saying a lot, considering that for years my most relaxing memories were of seven days spent in intensive care at Ochsner Hospital.)
Prepare to be Pampered
The facial room retains the womb-like feel of the transition area, with its soft, dim lighting and dark-toned walls. The beautiful color and sleek lines of the designer sink catches my eye. Reminiscent of the raised-bowl sinks in vogue today, it appears beautiful enough to be a work of art. A large vase stands dramatically in front of a full-length mirror to the left. In the center of the room is the massage table, pre-heated and covered with the most sumptuous fabric my fingers have ever touched. A silky sateen cotton, it feels deliciously elegant as I slide beneath the sheets prepared to enjoy the moment.
The facial is a heavenly mixture of warm, moist cloths, fragrant cleansing creams, moisturizers and tingly exfoliants—all applied with the angelic touch of Susan’s expert hands. As warm mists of water and toner land almost imperceptibly on my face, I find myself thinking that I could get used to this very easily.
“Breathe deeply,” Susan’s gentle voice guides, as a bouquet of lavender, thyme, rosemary and other fragrances fills the air. Before I know it, an hour has passed and Susan is inviting me to slip out of the terry wrap she’d given me for the facial and into the comfy robe she’d placed on the chair in preparation for the massage. She tells me to take my time and not to rush. (I like that.) But no sooner do I don the garment when an enormous hot flash envelopes me. I walk into Lydia’s room fanning myself wildly with my hands. “Hot flash!” I explain. In response to my thermal emergency, she gets me some cool water and thoughtfully does not activate the warmer on her massage table.
“Place the robe on the chair and lie down on your stomach with your face in the open circle. Bring the covers to your shoulders. I’ll give you time to prepare and then knock before entering the room.” That is the gist of the instructions for this next indulgence. Before following them, I drink in the room—its vase of palm fronds, the cozy lighting, the calming music and, ah yes, the addictive sheets and blanket on the table. I can’t help smiling at the beauty of it all. It is that smile, however, that causes me a bit of a problem because it makes my cheeks too broad to fit into the face ring. At first, I can’t figure out why my ordinary sized face won’t fit. Then I realize that I am to relax my smile and channel all that joy into some other place. Sure enough, that does the trick and I snuggle facedown into the padded ring.
Lydia comes in with her healing touch and soothing voice. She works the muscles in my oh-so-sore upper back, zoning in on all the little knots of pain, pressing and releasing pressure. She massages head, neck, back, arms, hands, legs and even my feet and toes. The oils are fragrant and silky; her hands glide smoothly and deftly, bringing me to a state of relaxation and calm that I probably last felt in the womb.
Amid the pleasures of this massage, I resolve to do this more often. Perhaps I’ll even join the spa’s “Culture Club,” which offers a spa membership that includes regularly scheduled appointments. That would commit me to take care of myself. Sandy is right. This is not a luxury; it is a necessity.
O Spa, you’ve made a believer out of me.
