The Tamesis
The day didn’t get off to an easy start when I realized that my daughter and I were face to face, arms crossed in the exact same position, feet firmly planted. My shoes are not wrong stepsshe insisted, I don’t need a coat. wonderful. We were wearing the wrong shoes and walking bare-handed into the 40-degree air in early March. A great day at the spa was matched by a completely calm state of mind.
We headed to the famous Spa Castle in College Point, Queens, where the new “Generational Serenity” package awaits you. The invitation sounded a bit like preparation for retirement, but with the assurance that even my four-year-old would appreciate the gifts, we strapped in and headed down Jackie Robinson Boulevard to the unassuming back street where a massive cobalt-white mansion stands.
To be honest, I’ve been waiting for this moment for about ten years. You see, I’m a mother of three wonderful boys who have never expressed any preference when it comes to soap or other bath products, and they don’t mind if I test their cleanliness by sniffing the scruff of their necks. (Who else would do this? They seem to appreciate—at least for now—my interest.) So when my fourth child was a girl, I was filled with excitement and surprise, but also with the thought, lingering in the distant distance, that one day we would get our nails done together.
That day came earlier than expected. Maybe it’s because she’s bouncing around the testosterone-filled house, but my daughter is so obsessed with tiaras, unicorns, and tutus that she says “pink is my favorite color” as soon as she can utter any of those words. She started going to the nail salon with me and she loved it. There’s not much room for her to be girly (although there are plenty of male patrons—this is Brooklyn!), and she’s like a sponge, batting her eyelashes at ladies wielding nail files and squinting to see the difference between Essie’s ballet slippers and the ladies.
My local mega spa isn’t the only establishment generating this interest. At Moar Gut in Salzburg, Austria, a chic-looking place, you can fine-tune your baby’s early development with baby yoga, baby massage, and “baby floats” that look as cute as they sound. At the Royal Champagne Spa in Champillon, France, you can book a treatment for your six-year-old, curated by Bonpoint: “Once upon a time,” the spa menu says, “because it’s never too early to introduce beauty and happiness to each of us.” The Cheval Blanc Spa in the St. Barth outpost offers a series of “My First Guerlain” skincare experiences.
I wasn’t too keen on taking a trip to the Caribbean on a Sunday, so it didn’t take much convincing when the Spa Castle rep assured me that the four men weren’t (as I suspected) a little too young for their ideas. At the spa itself, things are slightly different. “Our youngest customer ever!” the receptionist exclaimed, looking over the counter at my blond kid. We followed her down a corridor dimly lit by artificial candles, edged by slender ravines filled with obsidian—which I had to quickly promise my daughter not to pick up and put in her pocket. Two massage tables were waiting for us and my daughter immediately took up the challenge of climbing on hers – there was a playground inside! A boost, a few towels on her head, and she was ready for a facial. “What do you use to clean…” the technician started, before realizing that the girl’s face had only seen a washcloth and she wouldn’t have much to say when it came to her non-existent skin care routine.
