Aire Ancient Baths, New York
When I first moved to Manhattan my mind boggled, in the best possible way, about the fact I could get a full service manicure for as little at $7.50. In London, the same service would set me back at least £30, and so I rarely bothered. I’m actually pretty adept at doing my nails myself. But here, it’s become a weekly ritual that can’t even be classed a luxury. I can’t say I’ve quite embraced the Chinese massage parlours that also line the streets (forming, along with the psychics, a sort of mind-body-spirit holy trinity) with quite the same regularity. Quality and credentials go a long, long way in my book when it comes to body treatments, but many a New Yorker will rave about their favourite therapist “at this place on 8th, where you can get 90 minutes for like $60!” This is almost always qualified with the caveat, “It may not be fancy, but it’s very, very clean.”
This city isn’t known for its day spas, which I used to think was because nobody here had time for that kind of indulgence. But I’ve since realised that while New Yorkers don’t begrudge paying $300 for a facial with the latest impossible-to-bag-an-appointment celebrity skin doctor, the sheer proliferation of cheap and cheerful salons catering to the basics has priced the mid-range places out of the market. Furthermore, as my facialist Maureen Dodd, Director of Healing Arts at the Ash Center on 61st and 5th, put it, “This is the kind of city where you need a massage every week, so it had better be affordable.”
But one place has managed to buck the trend. I first heard about Aire Ancient Baths back in December last year, when I bumped into a couple of friends who’d just finished a session there. In the wintery twilight, their skin had that post-spa dewiness and they couldn’t stop raving about the place. It was so beautiful – an underground oasis of tranquillity in lower SoHo – and such good value! A two-hour session in the baths, including an hour long massage, would set me back a mere $165. I simply had to go.
I wondered what kind of New Yorker has time for an hour’s sitting around on a Monday afternoon, waiting for a treatment – until I remembered that this is a city populated by more than 70 of the world’s billionaires and, presumably, their wives
I chose a Monday afternoon slot, and found myself sharing the cavernous space, dug cathedral-deep into Franklin Street, with two other single women, two couples and one lone wolf. The exposed brick and large metal lanterns in the reception area hinted at what was to come downstairs: six baths, a large steam room and several communal massage chambers resemble a Moroccan hamam, all lit by candles – all quite breathtaking, really, and the atmosphere super-relaxing, as promised.
I spent an hour mooching around the pools, all different temperatures and levels of salty and bubbliness, waiting to be called for my massage. It’s a bit long to wait, really, and as I felt myself slowly morphing into a giant prune, I wondered what kind of New Yorker has time for an hour’s sitting around on a Monday afternoon, waiting for a treatment – until I remembered that this is a city populated by more than 70 of the world’s billionaires and, presumably, their wives. Not to be sexist, but like most day spas, there is an air of “ladies who lunch” about the Aire. But in a city where time is money, an afternoon here feels more of an indulgence than a proper service. (You can even book in for lengthier three-and-a-half-hour “rituals” too, which involve red wine, cava and olive oil, and cost upwards of $500. Even more of an indulgence.)
When my massage finally rolled around it was fine, though not one I’d put in my top ten. Better than the $40 places I’ve tried, but that’s not saying much. I found myself envying the couples, who looked like they were having by far the best time, and it’s true that Aire would make a great venue for a date. The atmosphere is sexy and sophisticated (unlike a lot of day spas), and time no doubt flies by when you’ve got your boo in their bathing suit to ogle. Apparently it’s packed at the weekends, and I can imagine something of a singles scene bubbling here too. On my grey Monday afternoon, I emerge feeling relaxed (if 20 minutes behind schedule for my next meeting) – and very, very clean. C
Aire Ancient Baths, 88 Franklin Street, New York, NY 10013
+212 274 3777; ancientbathsny.com