Review: Getting a volumising perm at London's Karine Jackson

I have a confession. I last had a perm when I was 14. It was the year 2000, which is one of the worst years for hair. My mum is a brilliant hairdresser, and with such skill at my disposal I was always asking her to trim a bit here, add a fringe there, or bleach that entire section a bit no actually dye it back I don't suit blonde.

I loved my very first perm, and although mum went weak with the solution, anticipating my ever-changing style, it make my hair look full of volume and life. I was the envy of all my friends.

Skip forward to now.

Sandra from the life-saving Sophie and Lola (more on that to come) has crafted me a handmade floral crown for tomorrow, which happens to be my wedding day, which is exactly what I've been looking for. It wouldn't work with hair up, so I decided to go for curls. And rather than worry about them dropping during the day, a perm was in order.

Karine Jackson's salon, who I last visited last year for my pixie cut, was the first port of call, purely because they use organic hair dyes and perms. This means less damage to my hair and no chance of it reacting to my existing dye job and leaving me with green-tinted hair as I walked down the aisle. Plus, they won London Hairdresser of the Year and have been nominated in the London Lifestyle Awards this year. All these accolades mean they're really at the top of their game.

I have to tell you guys, two days later, perms are definitely the way forward.

A week before...

I met with Claudia (CLOUD-ear) a week before my perm in their Covent Garden salon. She sat me down with a few magazines and asked me what I wanted from my perm. Like an idiot, I muttered something about liking my hair when I curl it with GHDs. Rather than laugh in my face, which she had every right to do, she explained a perm will make my hair curly, but nothing like the result you'd get after GHDs or when it's run through tongs.

I wanted to go ahead anyway, so we agreed on a plan of action.

She snipped a section of my hair to process in the solution, and showed me a few photos of how my hair will more than likely look. Happy with what we'd discussed, I left the salon full of excitement. My straight locks were on borrowed time...

On the day

I rocked up to Karine's and was warmly greeted by Sam, who led me to the back mezzanine area and got me a coffee. While waiting for the show to start, I said a quick hello to the friendly American sitting next to me. She's a KJ regular and was getting her highlights topped up.

"Oh hi there! I love it here," she said, in a typically American accent. "Usually my hair can't take going so blonde, but the stuff they use is like a miracle. All the mums from school pop in when they get a second to spare."

Before we could chat further, Claudia came over and said a warm hello before leading me down the spiral staircase for someone to wash and prep my hair.

As before, this was such a relaxing way to start the two hour treatment. The guy was great at the massage, and ensured I was comfy throughout (because sometimes those sinks can cause painful neck damage and terrible cricks, let's be honest). With hair all washed and me feeling suitably sleepy it was time to head back up and for Claudia to get to work.

The perm: part I

As we'd talked about the week before, Claudia used a mix of roller sizes to ensure I got a natural-looking result rather than Shirley Temple style ringlets - not a good look for anyone over seven. My hair was sectioned, rolled and clipped into place. After twenty minutes my whole head was covered and it was time to add the solution.

This was a weird bit. As my was scalp exposed and hair pulled taught, the feeling of dripping water sent shivers down my spine. With a plastic hair-bib draped on my shoulders, I have no idea how she didn't spill a drop as it felt like it was running down my back. The solution didn't smell anywhere near as strong as it usually does. Claudia explained this was due to the organic nature of the product. So clients can have a perm and head straight out without worrying they smell a bit like cat wee (my words, not hers).

Once the solution was applied I was wrapped in plastic while a heater was set to work for seven minutes. Once that was done, my hair was blowdried to make sure I was getting a good set. Then it was just a waiting game.

The perm: part II

Once the time was up it was back downstairs for the solution to be rinsed away. My head felt so strange after 45 minutes of being in the rollers, and the hair wash was wasn't as soothing as the first one. My scalp felt really numb!

Claudia explained the process a bit more to me: the perm will last for about eight weeks as it is, and then it'll gradually start to drop. Immediately after the treatment it'll look very, very curly, but this is normal and I can wash my hair after 48 hours. By the time it gets to needing a retreat, my hair will look like it has a gentle, boho wave to it. Not a problem! The perm is permanent, as its name suggests, but as it's organic, it's not going to ever be as harsh as people would think.

In fact, I can book in for a dye just ten days after treatment, something not possible with peroxide and ammonia. 

The perm: part III

Once the solution was rinsed away I was led back upstairs to the styling chair where the towel containing my new curls was removed and I experienced the big reveal. I was shocked. There were actual curls there, and although more ringlet than soft, bouncy waves I was thrilled. It was so strange (as you can see from the odd face I'm pulling there).

Claudia used organic mousse, which is more water-based than anything else and won't make my hair look sticky, and asked me to shift my head so the back of the neck was resting on the chair. Gravity is needed to make sure the curls don't turn to frizz and she expertly softened the look using a diffuser and her hands.

After I was done she assured me it looks better once left to dry naturally, that all of her clients feel they get a better result at home with natural curls than the made-up look I had at that time - a new experience from a stylist as usually I can never quite get the same look once at home.

I left the salon with a spring in my step and in my hair. The entire process took just under two hours, and on more than once occasion I nearly drifted to sleep, it was that relaxing.

Two days later...

Immediately after I felt like a totally different person. I couldn't believe how different my hair felt bouncing around, and when I showed David he said he absolutely loved it.

I still haven't washed my hair yet, being about 35 hours after treatment, but I'm sure I'll update this once the wedding's over and I've perfected my new style. All I know for now is I'll definitely be back come December to get my hair curled again. I'm definitely a perm convert, and with a system as kind as is used at Karine's I can do so without feeling like it's going to damage my hair.

Home maintenance for permed hair

Use an organic shampoo and conditioner, or a gentle solution for coloured hair

Only comb hair when it's wet to run conditioner through it

Use organic mousse for best results, and twist it through hair before giving it a good zhuzh

Let curls hang to the ground and dry hair upside down if using a blow dryer

A diffuser will help, but can make hair frizzy

If you need to blow dry, use amedium heat and speed, and leave it 90% damp

Ideally, zhuzh hair with mousse and leave to dry naturally. It's the best and easiest way.
 
Karine Jackson Hair and Beauty |  24 Litchfield St, London, WC2H 9NJ | 020 7836 0300 
Volumising perm starts from £70.

Interested? Read on...

Review: Gina Conway Aveda Salon and Spa, London

I'd hurriedly rushed up Fulham Road in the direction I thought the salon was located, before realising I had actually already gone too far. A frantic assessment of Google Maps had me throw a quick 180, cross the road, and head back the way I'd just come searching, searching for number 612 on the busy high street. The salon - when I found it, was so very unassuming that you would be forgiven for missing it if you didn't already know where it was. It lacked the normal Sandwich Board Specials you expect from your high street chain salons, but with clientele bragging the likes of Made In Chelsea's finest, perhaps this wasn't Any Old Salon.

I was greeted with a warm welcome, escorted to, and asked to take a seat in the Waiting Area. Would I like a drink? I would, thank you. Make mine a coffee. For lunch time on a Saturday, the salon was already heaving. There were three of us waiting to be seen, while the majority of the seats inside the salon had already been taken by earlier clients. There was an air of emergency; very much a "there are people waiting, we must satisfy everyone!" vibe, which - as a result, meant I wasn't left waiting very long. Except for that coffee, that only materialised about half an hour later, after I questioned its whereabouts.

Soon enough, I was met in the by the exotic Kiran, and led three foot forward to the Hair Washing Station; conveniently located within the Waiting Area. Handy. Except, I wasn't about to get my hair washed, I was about to experience the salon's famous Glow Facial - a bonus plant-based exfoliating treatment you can choose to include in your regular cut and blow dry experience, for some added pampering (and pennies; £15 for the treatment on top of your salon experience). The lights above the Waiting Area/Hair Washing Station were dimmed, and I was told to make myself comfortable.

With my neck at odd angles and my legs out straight in front, I was told to take Three Deep Breaths while Kiran wafted some delightful aromatherapy oils under my snout, and began the treatment on my semi-made-up face - sans consultation about the products that were to be used, but avec consultation about the procedure. I don't recall the exact treatment, if I'm honest; there was a lot of Cheek Manipulation and thick oils massaged into my sensitive skin and more Three Deep Breaths, but mostly what I remember was: a lot of noise - primarily from the hectic Waiting Area cum Treatment Area and the fact the toilet, staff room, and back door were right there. I'm told there is a full treatment room downstairs, where one can enjoy an array of relaxing procedures... doesn't that sound nice?...

After the Cheek Manipulation/massage of oil into sensitive skin/repeat was complete, a warm flannel was used to wipe 'clean' my skin; I was given a mini head massage (so lush), and I was then sat up right and led - bare (and massively oily and red) faced over to one of the free chairs in the front window of the salon.

Would I like a drink? Oh yes please, make mine that white coffee from earlier, thank you. There, I dared look at myself in the mirror; I was a hot mess. blotchy, oily and red faced, with my hair at all angles and make up smeared across my face. At this point, beyond embarrassment, I was greeted by my stylist Paul, and handed my coffee. I can't imagine what Paul thought he'd done in his life to be so lucky to have me as a client in that particular moment, but I tell you what; I was mortified.

With my feeble attempt to apologise for the state the head massage had left my hair, and as I frantically tried to wipe my mascara from where it had been left on my forehead, Paul sat there patiently and laughed with me. Not at me, with me. Like a good lad. His laughter was only ever to be short lived, especially after I explained to him that my most recent hair cut was done by me, with the kitchen scissors. I saw that poor man's heart drop with his eyes, as they rollllllled back into his head. It was the reaction I was expecting, to be fair - it's also the reason I don't go to the hair dresser as often as I should.

Thankfully, our consultation was brief; I'd laid few rules; no layers, blunt fringe, a couple inches off the ends max. His only quibble was with the layers. He was the professional after all, so we discussed the pros and cons of layers, and I was convinced to let him layer the underneath of my hair, not the top, so that it wouldn't be visibly noticeable, but so I would notice the weight relief. Fine.

I was then shuffled back to the Hair Washing Station. Now, who doesn't love their hair being washed? It's probably the best bit about going to the hairdressers, no? Well, it was lush. Whomever played that part of my treatment needs a high five, because it was lovely. Except the part where the deep treatment had to stay in for five minutes and I was left alone. Once she returned and the treatment was rinsed off, I was returned to Paul and my now-cold coffee, and the real treatment began.

Paul was lovely. We chatted like old friends the whole way through my time with him. He was attentive to my hair concerns, and paid a great deal of attention to what he was doing - especially as he got all up in my eyes with the fringe trimming, and conversation with him was never hard. This is another reason I hate going to the hairdresser; forced conversation. Well, it never felt forced, and we had a lot in common to talk about. The hour with him flew by, and before I knew it, he was blow drying his creation and clipping my fringe aside so I could see to de-hairing my face in the bathroom (and applying some make up so I could face the Fulham public afterwards).



When I returned to his station, he was gone. I fiddled about a bit with my fringe, as it was a bit wonky from the clip, and looked about for him and his industry-strength hairdryer so I could fix the problem before I left. He never reappeared. After a few more minutes trying to do something with my fringe so I looked acceptable, I grabbed my jacket, a business card, said my thank yous to the jacket-getter-employee and asked her if she could pass my thanks on to Paul herself. Of course she said she would, but I thought it odd he didn't come back to say goodbye himself. I assume he knew I was there to review the treatment, so was a tad let down he didn't follow through with me to the end.

Once I was out the door, I hauled all my hair up on top of my head as I normally would, only to discover that the layers he'd convinced me would be a good idea underneath were now too-short to make it into my bun. Thank god for pins, eh! When I got in and blow dried my fringe straight, my disappointment was doubled when I noticed that it was still wonky. Wonky, and cut into, not blunt as I'd asked. Clearly when I'd had my eyes closed, some hairdresser trickery ensued. I'd mentioned cow licks in my fringe, and I know he added some product to combat that, but as he's cut it with product in, he'd not taken the natural kinks into consideration. Again; there's a reason I do my own hair - I know what I'm doing, and how I like it to look. Thankfully it will grow enough for me to fix it in a few weeks, but until then, sadly it's staying up.

The cut itself and the treatment I'd received had left my barnet in a top quality state; shiny and healthy, and I couldn't be more happy with how that's turned out. The style is fuss-free, which means I can wash and go and it will pretty much do itself, which is a huge bonus as I'm kind of lastminute.com in the morning, and keen to sleep as much as possible.

This style allows for maximum sleep.

The Glow massage I'd received on the other hand, had left my skin inflamed, irritated, and when I woke up the next day; broken out. The combination of exfoliation, massage oil and the fact that I wasn't asked to clean my skin prior to the treatment, meant that my skin was angry and rebelling. I was cautious to not add fuel to the fire and steered clear of heavy make up, opting for BB cream for the public's benefit for the next few days, but even come Tuesday morning, my cheeks were still red, sore and spotty. Not ideal on a thirty year old.

Overall, my experience was a mixed bag.

The service was incredible; the staff were ever so attentive and welcoming, but also a little lacking when it came to the things that really mattered (after care, allergies, etc). The treatments were each wonderful, but could have been more so had they been given in a calm environment and not in the busy waiting room of a busy High Street salon.

The value for money was excellent; £37 for a ladies cut and blowdry (and I assume this includes the standard hair wash), including full consultation and precise cutting - with the added bonus of a really nice person to chat to, was definitely worth it. I would definitely suggest that if you're going to consider adding the Glow treatment (£15) to your salon cut, that you consult the ingredients first, prepare yourself with clean skin, and speak to the salon staff about any concerns you might have.

Learn from my mistakes, guys!

Thank you to Paul and Kiran and the rest of the team over at Gina Conway Aveda Salon and Spa on Fulham Road for the wonderful experience. I'll be back... just don't touch my fringe, ya hear!

By Erica.

Gina Conway Aveda Salon and Spa  | 612 Fulham Rd, London SW6 5RP | 020 7731 7633

Interested? Read on...

REVIEW (Kinda) | London County Town Hall Club and Spa

A couple of months back, I was lucky enough to be asked to review a spa for this here magazine, and I thought I'd well and truly made it. Review! A spa! For a magazine! It was going to be epic, and I basically bragged to all and sundry (even though I wasn't really supposed to) that I was being sent away on this super lush spa day with my best mate, and it was going to be epic. I even bought a new bikini in preparation (I mean, I totally had to because prior to that I actually didn't own such a thing). A few weeks passed, and no matter how hard Laura tried to get the spa day locked in, the venue kept pushing back with a myriad of excuses; refurbishment, the dates didn't work, etc. A month or so of to-ing and fro-ing later, we popped that particular perk atop the No Joy pile and I was assured that the next time a spa-type-thing came up, my name would be atop that particular pile too.

That was fine with me. The Promise of a Massage is almost as good as the Massage Itself, and is not something you question; we left it there and I silently prayed to the Massage Gods that something would happen, and soon, because dammmmmn have I had some stress in my life.

Behold! A few weeks ago The Gods answered my prayers, by way of an invitation from the Marriot London County Town Hall Club and Spa to try their "ideal personal retreat, located over the top two floors of one of London's prestigious architectural landmarks." Errr... yes, please, sign us up at once! No spa date would be complete without the obligatory few hundred emails between PR and editor, and in this case, a date and time were agreed - and then again changed - many, many times. In the end, I'd agreed to let Laura book the thing, and I'd just go; a three way email between her and I and them and her and them and the Spa was all too brain-achey for me. Eventually though, it was booked. I was going!

And went I did. All rushed and hurried I barrelled into the hotel mere minutes before my appointment, with thanks - as always, to a slight train delay because of [choose where appropriate: leaves on the tracks/a signal failure/person under a train/adverse weather conditions]. With grateful directions from the doorman up to the fifth floor, I landed at 1pm on the dot - sweaty, but with much excitement, to the lobby of the spa. There, I was greeted by a smiling employee... whose smile began to fade as I explained why I was there.

"You didn't get my email?"

Errr... no, I have received no emails from your anonymous self today, but do go on.

"I emailed you to tell you that your appointment was cancelled earlier today as...[insert explanation about a broken wrist here]" It's not that I have no sympathy for the poor woman, but MY LORD imagine how ANNOYED I was at this point.

Look; I will admit that as she went to fetch her manager who then proceeded to show me the email she had sent the agency that morning - who clearly does not work on Saturdays - that I lost my temper and maybe my manners, and did zero work in upholding the reputation of this amazing magazine.

I flew out of there as quick as I'd arrived, all the while texting Laura the extent of my outrage. That certainly wasn't how I saw my afternoon being spent. While I stood outside the hotel, amongst the many thousands of tourists soaking up the views of Westminster bridge and beyond, I took stock and realised that maybe, just maybe, it could be worse... I could have still been on that train.

So I'll end with this:

Dear Spa Manager Lady; when you showed me the email you sent, it was evident you had the email address and contact number of the editor who could have put you in touch with me, and saved me a pointless trek to your gorgeous and delightfully-smelling spa. No amount of apologies from you was going to squeeze an ounce of empathy out of me, as, in my opinion, you didn't "do everything you could think of" to reach me to cancel the appointment..

Add to that the fact that there were three of - what I can only deduce were employees - standing around in that back 'employees only' room smiling at me while I seethed in anger, please understand I was not being unreasonable, I was being furious at your poor management, and my wasted time and expense.

Regards, Erica.

Editor's note: six out of ten are impartial when it comes to reviews, treating each and every bar, hotel and restaurant visit as fairly as possible to give you, our reader, the chance to decide whether you'd want to visit yourself. Some reviews don't make it, some reviews don't cut it, some reviews are glowing and if I could, I'd get kittens to repeatedly lick your face to get you to visit. While we generally try to avoid negative content on this site, preferring to say nothing if we have nothing nice to say, the reason for publishing this feature is as follows:

six out of ten was approached by the spa's PR agency to review a solo spa session. After much discussion and failing to come up with a week date that worked, this spa review had been arranged for a Saturday. The spa's management emailed our contact with the cancellation that morning, negating to get in touch with the editorial team despite having our contact details as well as knowing the visit was on behalf of our magazine. As there is a contact form on the website which could have been used as a last resort, we feel the spa could have done more to get in touch. We see this failure to do so as a case of not being interested in us as a customer.

The account executive emailed Monday morning after checking through her emails and apologised for the unforeseen circumstances - which we completely understand - offering an afternoon tea by way of apology. While we appreciate the gesture, it's in our personal opinion that we experienced a serious lack of customer service by the spa. While this could be an isolated occurrence and are sure other patrons will have enjoyed their visit, we sadly could not recommend the spa to our readers should the same happen to them. six out of ten declined the offer and chose to post this review as our first-hand experience of the spa.

Interested? Read on...

Review: Sound Bath at Lush Spa, King's Road, Chelsea

You're sitting at a wooden country table surrounded by white kitchen cabinets, a well-used wooden counter top and an old butler sink that reminds you of your grandma's house. All around are pipettes, Mason jars and glass tea pots. You know you're in a spa. But you half expect to see chickens clucking around your feet and wild roses growing outside the window. The reality is you're in a basement on King's Road, about to experience something truly mind-blowing.

You sit there, your jacket and scarf hanging on an ornate coat hook, and wait for a lady dressed in black to finish her pottering around. The lady approaches with a wooden box, clouds of white smoke pouring from it and pooling in whispy trails on the table. She opens the box and tells you to eat and drink. Once the smoke clears, falling softly to your feet, you see moss and heather. At the bottom is a tiny bottle. 'Drink Me', it invites. The clear liquid will start the experience and balance your body ready for what awaits. You drink the liquid, not knowing what to expect. Next is a mushroom. This is all part of the experience, you tell yourself, as you're led down a small corridor to a room.

The lady asks you to get as comfortable as possible, leaving clothes on or off, and invites you to lay on the warm bed. A soft blanket is pulled up to your chest as you settle in for the hour-long therapy. This isn't about hands-on massage, the lady says. The treatment will drench you in sound, causing a deep state of relaxation and a natural high. You watch as she burns incense called Inhale and Exhale and wafts more smoke over your body.

While she prepares the tools needed for your experience, you listen to the sounds playing. A bird chirps behind you. A bee buzzes past your right ear, following the bird. You wonder just how and where these sounds are coming from, but as you twist your neck to try and see the lady takes her place at your head, and gently helps you relax. You close your eyes as she uses two hot stones to start the massage, using them expertly to help you get into the experience.

You have no idea how long you've been enjoying the sensation of her hands and the stones on your face. But you can breathe clearer, and you start to nod off to sleep. The sounds are louder now, filled with guitars and birds, bees and tambourines. The sounds brings long-forgotten memories to your mind - an afternoon in the park basking in the sun, that holiday to Asia, relaxing on a beach on some tiny island.



Just as you feel your head sinking further down, deeper into the pillow, you hear the lady set off the tuning forks. The forks are placed by your ears, and you feel the low tones more than hear them. She places them on your head, your temples, your chest. The feeling is strange. You can hear guitars now, and coupled with the vibration of the forks, you're left wondering whether you're in a weird lucid dream rather than a basement in King's Road.

With the vibrations long gone, the lady rolls you onto your side to start the ear candling. A tube is placed in your ear and set alight. You hear slight cracking sounds, and then your ears feel warm and start to pop. The glow of the flame takes your mind to Finland, sitting by a warm fire, listening to the sounds of snow creaking on the outside lake. You realise this is another memory that was lost, long-forgotten, and the Sound Bath treatment has somehow brought it crashing back.

The music changes into ohms and chants you don't recognise, in a language you're not sure what to call. You try to stay awake, but the sounds are pulling you into a deep sleep. You try to resist, but you slowly let yourself drift away. You feel detached from reality, in a dream world of your own imagination.

You wake up on your back to the sound of birdsong, the music jaunty and rousing. You feel overjoyed, happy, ecstatic, and you have no idea why. You think, 'can music really be this powerful? Can it take you into a deep sleep then rouse you in a matter of moments?'

The lady starts massaging your head, using the tuning forks and cold stones in quick succession. With each new touch you start to feel more awake, like you can take on the world. She shakes something over your body and leaves the room for you to get ready. You sit there wondering what happened. The birds are chirping behind you once again, the bees whizzing past your ears.

You take a seat back at the kitchen table, and the lady offers you a steaming post of honey and mint tea. An hour later you're sat in your hotel room, having planning a night of greasy food and chocolate, you put another fork of beans, peas and feta salad into your mouth. The treatment's over. But the experience will stay for a long time.


The Sound Bath costs £65 for a sixty-minute treatment, and you'll get to take home your Eat Me, Drink Me goodies. To mess with your head and reality and give it a go, head to www.lush.co.uk/spa

Interested? Read on...

We Ask a Boy to try Synaesthesia at Lush Spa, Chelsea

Spas are for girls, right? With the robes and slippers and things that smell like flowers and all that jazz. And even more so with Lush's strong fragrances, pink bath bombs and all manner of lotions and potions with quirky names and quirkier ingredients. Well, we decided to drop a man in the middle of Lush Spa's country kitchen for an hour to see how he got on...

When I agreed to go for a spa treatment, I found myself asking this question - how many girls will get their blokes, brothers or dads a spa day for a special occasion? I expect very few. However, metrosexuality is on the rise, and us men are indulging in spoiling ourselves. Those creams that were once reserved for girls are now finding their way into our bathroom cabinets and washbags. I for one have five different kinds of moisturiser for my face alone. My point? There's absolutely nothing wrong with looking after your skin and body. And a pamper every now and then.

Based on the famous King's Road in swanky Kensington and Chelsea, Lush Spa is a whole new kind of relaxation. It's downstairs off the main high street, so there's no passing traffic to disturb you.

We arrived through the main doors, and spoke to a few of the staff. One of the girls, we didn't get her name, asked what we were having. When I mentioned I'd like Lush's signature treatment, Synaesthesia, her face lit up. "My friends and I had it four years ago, and we were so chilled after, getting the tube home has never been more relaxed!"

We headed down the winding stairs to to basement, and chatted to the therapists Holly and Chloe. Holly explained Synaesthesia is totally unique to what you want and how you feel at that moment in time. It involves all the senses, from the colour of the room to the sounds that will take you out on a day-long journey. All of this is tailored to how you feel, which means no two massages will ever be the same.

So, you're sat in the basement, styled as a country kitchen, and asked to read a list of words before picking the one that jumped out at you. After embarrassingly admitting I struggle to read Lush's typography (does anyone else have this problem, btw?), I settled on wanting to be uninhibited. Next, you pick a bottle, again, the one that drew you to it above everything else. I chose muscle as my scent. It would work on my shoulders, pinning me back ready to face the world.

What happened next is a bit of a sleepy blur, but I do remember it was the most relaxing 80 minutes of my life. I had my head, neck, shoulders, back, arms and legs massaged, with hot stones placed at different points on my stomach. I honestly thought Holly had three hands massaging me. The trick is to let the experience take you. It's more of a meditative experience, than a standard full body massage. Yeah, the massage will relax your body from from head to toe (literally). But close your eyes and drift away with the sounds. Take in the smell, and totally transform yourself.

I did this. And it was amazing. So much so I struggled to walk and speak in the hours following the massage. Nothing was going on between the ears. Lights were on, but not only was nobody home, they'd long left the country.

After the session was over, I sat and relaxed with a cup of tea blended with the same scents I'd chosen earlier. It brought together the massage, the smell and now the taste of what I'd just gone through. Lush also sent me home with the same uninhibited massage and a muscle stone bar for the bath to recreate the experience.

So girls. If your boyfriend, partner, dad or brother is open-minded enough not to be 'I am man bring me my spear and I will go and hunt', this is a perfect way to get him in a great mood for a long, long time. Because boys deserve to be pampered, too.

Synaesthesia costs £125 for an 80 minute massage, including teas, and your take home goodies. If you're interested in giving it a go, you'll find more details at www.lush.co.uk

Interested? Read on...

Is it a bird? Is it a TRAIN? No, your train's been cancelled. It's Supercuts!

Over a week ago, half of the country was battening down the hatches thanks to a storm. HASHTAG UK STORM TWENTY THIRTEEN to be precise. Northerners - who get this weather pretty much every winter (and most summers and in fact all year round) - looked on in bewilderment, while us southerners who are by all admission, quite delicate, huddled under duvets with our teddies praying the roof stayed on and our cars were tree-free.

I happened to be sat in Liverpool Street station all but stranded as Greater Anglia (who some of you may have snorted laughing at my misfortune with them here) suspended all services. So. What's a girl to do when she can't get home after work because her train's running about twelve hours late and there are hundreds and hundreds of people all scrambling for the last inch of space on the one train running that evening? Why, get a hair cut of course!

Interested? Read on...

Thermae Bath Spa review - serenity, scenery, and er, sick (not literally though)

Have you ever wanted to stand, dripping wet, on a rooftop in the rain, in the middle of March? For reasons unfathomable, I did. My girlfriends and I trotted off to Bath for the day to seek out solace and the healing properties of spring water.

According to their website,  the spa sits on a natural spring which was used by local people thousands of years ago for healing properties, and just for a bit of fun and relaxation. In fact, in the 1500s Queen Elizabeth I made Bath a city, and declared that the public must always have access to the springs. Popular with socialites of the day, it became a go-to place for the rich and famous, drawing in crowds from overseas. The spa was even used on prescription from the NHS until 1976. The spa is full of history, and today is a top tourist hot spot (sorry). So what did we think?

We arrived at the Bath Thermae Spa around 3pm, and had to queue for 45 minutes to get in. Which would have been annoying, had we not just eaten lunch, during which too many burgers and cinnamon doughnuts dipped in hot chocolate sauce were consumed. I was responsible for only one burger, but six doughnuts.
They were mini, so it doesn’t count.

Needless to say, I wasn’t ecstatic about stripping off in front of my much fitter friends. And the £42 charge, for four hours in the spa, towel, robe and slippers, wasn’t much of a treat for my ever-depleting bank balance either. However, once reluctantly changed, I slipped on a warm robe and padded off to the roof to see what all the fuss is about.

Firstly, the views - which is what most people seem to come for. There are spectacular views over the city, and there's something incredibly relaxing about floating in warm water while the cool rain hits your face.

The spa has two pools, one inside and one outside. I tried the inside one for a while, but it was full of vom-inducing couples, and this didn’t entertain me much, really. There are also four steam rooms, declared blissful by my heat-seeking companions. I’m not a good steamer, being of the easily bored and sensitive-skinned variety. But I was very happy sitting in the Jacuzzi bubbles on the roof, and spent most of my time waiting for a miraculous sunset. It never came, but I won’t hold that against them.

All in all, I did enjoy myself but I’m not convinced it was worth the money for me. I’m not a very good relaxer, and at 7.30 when stood on a roof, in the dark, almost naked, I thought I was going to freeze to death. I may be inclined to being overly dramatic, but the shock of getting out of the pool did damper my spirits considerably.

Also, it was very, very busy - so if you're seeking something a bit more private it's probably not for you. We went on a Saturday, so we expected as much, and as you can’t book in advance to use the pools, you'll be in the queue for at least 30 minutes. Which isn't what I'd call relaxing.

But if you need quiet time to relax, I’d look elsewhere or go midweek very early in the morning. If you’re a couple, you’ll be in good company. But promise me you won’t go overboard on the PDA?




Bess is addicted to Earl Grey tea and Classic FM. An amateur baker, she often has too many opinions and not enough tact. Her one great idea is to found a ‘breakfast and dessert’ delivery company, for all your sugar coma needs. When not exercising her right to point out bad manners, you can find her pursuing one degree too many.

Interested? Read on...

St Pancras Spa - a cavernous, calm space in central London

I'm all about convenience when it comes to pampering. I love having a massage, and as I write this I'm in dire need of a facial. But it has to be in an easily accessible location or chances are I'll never find the time to treat myself. So this is why the St Pancras Spa is great for Londoners and commuters alike. Located right next to King's Cross station (it's pretty much built onto the station) it's perfect if you've been working and need a relaxing few hours before your commute home.
 
The first time I came here I was reviewing the place for work. The second time it was all pleasure. This is all about the pleasure.

The spa is sat neatly in the basement of the refurbished St Pancras Renaissance Hotel. It's impossible to miss - a colossal Gothic building from the outside, a sympathetically restored hotel, bar and restaurant inside. The whole building is imposing with tall ceilings, wood panels and antique tiling.

The spa is a world away from the classic, dark hotel being fresh, white and clean. Moroccan lanterns and peacock fans adorn the waiting areas and treatment rooms. The staff seemed a bit cold and aloof which was a shame, but the great thing is they left me to get changed and enjoy the facilities in peace. Always a winner.

The changing rooms are huge, and the ladies room had a sauna in it so you can shower and sweat before even getting into the main spa. Of course, all the little finishing touches like eye pads and face flannels were there.

I chose a mini treatment both visits - I'm not one for spending an hour being rubbed and smoothed. I start feeling really uncomfortable and then m mouth goes dry and I can't swallow properly so I ask for water and hte whole thing is ruined and the therapist things she's rubbish at her job and runs off crying. Ok that might not have happened.

Anyway, the back, neck and shoulder massage lasts about 30 minute and is an affordable little pick-me-up. My therapist was fantastic and managed to loosen the knots in my neck. She knew I sat at a desk typing day in day out, so worked that area particularly well. A week later and my shoulders still felt loose and lithe. She was brilliant at tailoring the treatment to my needs too. No running off crying either.

After the treatment you sit in a calming relaxation area with your choice of tea. This is a great way to really get the best of the experience. Plus, it's not unusual to feel a little groggy after being relaxed to the point of snoozing. After about half an hour, I wandered into the main room - a huge cavernous, underground pool surrounded by steam rooms and saunas.

The steam rooms were a little dirty which ruined the experience a bit. I'm unsure if it's because I've visited quite late both time and the oils they use have run out or if it just needs a scrub, but I left those alone and spent most of my time floating in the Turkish Bath styled pool. There's something about being underground and seeing the shadows of people walking on the ceiling that's just so relaxing.

All in all, the convenience and setting makes the St Pancras Spa an ideal little treat after work. I'll have to actually book into the hotel next time so I don't have an hour-long commute back home.

Interested? Read on...