San Francisco sushi spa

I just had to share this recent Daily Candy San Francisco posting with you: an article about a spa in San Francisco that will turn you into a giant California roll:

"The 90-minute service begins with a sea salt and sesame seed scrub. Next you (a.k.a. the crab) are slathered in a cucumber seaweed body mask. A thermal blanket heats you up and draws out toxins and impurities while encouraging absorption of the seaweed’s vital nutrients. A massage of avocado oil enriched with vitamin E leaves the skin ...smooth and silky."

Becoming a giant California roll sounds strangely appealing to me. Please note that this event would be VASTLY different from that wacked out Japanese practice of eating sushi off of a naked woman, which I have no desire to partake of in any capacity, be it as diner or dined-upon.

My friend Nastia used to laugh at my obsession for a particular spa treatment available at a skin center around the corner from my apartment in Paris. (Paris is full of skin centers, which always feature prominent window ads glorifying the extraordinarily firm and smooth butt that will be yours after purchasing the advertised treatment. These butts are always so perfect that they can't possibly belong to anyone but the French. This American just heaved a sigh and trudged past these displays, wistfully hoping for a butt miracle somewhere between her apartment and the boulangerie, where a croissant awaited.)

As far as I could tell from the pictures posted in the window, the procedure that fueled my obsession involved being drenched entirely in chocolate and then massaged. I had to walk past this place every day on my way to the Metro, and every day I would fantasize about becoming a human truffle. What kind of chocolate would they use? Could I request a certain brand? Was it sticky? Was it edible? I had a lot of questions, but I never found any answers.

"You must do it!" urged Nastia. "It is your dream!" She knows me too well. Some people dream of helping others, or bettering society. Me? I dream of of being smeared in chocolate by a humorless Parisian spa attendant. But alas, I was too cheap and frightened to go through with it. It IS kind of an intimidating prospect to be slathered head to toe in chocolate by a stranger, isn't it? Or am I just a prude?

And now, leave it to San Francisco ("the most European city in America") to come up with its own take on the whole blurring-the-line-between-food-and-beauty thing. OF COURSE it's sushi. What else would it be? I'm sure a fruit smoothie treatment (with soy powder for an extra fee) already exists. Perhaps bubble tea wrap is next?

Not that I object one bit. A quick glance at my bathroom counter reveals Origins Ginger Souffle Whipped Body Cream (luscious, and with the texture of sour cream), lavender shampoo, tomato body wash (by Roger & Gallet and fab; smells like a tomato fresh off the vine), orange-cinnamon body wash (Gallet again; smells like my beloved vin chaud), and cucumber/green tea deodorant. Obviously I am doing as much as I can to become a human salad bar.

I remember reading an article awhile back in Bitch Magazine about this strange obsession we all have (or maybe it's just me?) with "nourishing" our skin and hair with vitamins and minerals and foodstuffs, in the same way that we nourish our bodies. The author essentially concluded that it's all a bunch of marketing hoo-ha and I'm quite sure she's right, but I can't deny sniffing my arm a few times a day just to catch a whiff of that delicious Origins Ginger Whip stuff.

If I decide to become a human California roll, I'll be sure to let you know.