UPON arriving at the Clarins counter, in the Manchester Exchange Square Selfridges Beauty Hall, I encountered what can only be described as my idea of hell.
I was visiting the new Clarins counter to have a massage by one of their on-site beauty therapists but what I arrived to find was one of those awful ergonomic massage chairs one finds in gazebos outside Asda.
Sometimes you just want to get in, get out and be able to once again look for oncoming traffic without wincing.
Pillar box red and smack bang right in the middle of the city centre shopping haven. Would I really have to squat on this in front of everyone? Would I be having my Melting Honey and Hot Stone massage along side Japanese tourists testing Jo Malone candles? This was not my idea of a relaxing inner city retreat.
I approached the counter and whilst waiting for the assistant to finish speaking impressive Mandarin to a Chinese shopper I composed myself and considered my journalistic integrity. If Confidential readers needed to know about this service, it was my job to suck it up and get honey dripped on me at the bottom of the escalators.
It was after being greeted by the smiley assistant that my worries disappeared because instead of asking me to de-robe and stick my head in the contraption’s face hole I was lead into the back, into a secret annex of spa-like serenity. Sipping a glass of chilled water and flicking through the latest Harpers Bazaar, I was feeling quite at home and the hideous ergonomic nightmare was forgotten.
Although, my troubles weren’t quite over. A now flustered assistant popped her head from around the corner and said to me, ‘we thought you were a girl’. Flashbacks of schoolyard taunts momentarily distracted me from answering and the assistant quickly explained herself. Since I was actually a man I would be unable to have the scheduled Melting Honey and Hot Stone massage as planned. Instead, I was going to have the very manly and butch Muscle Ease massage instead. Que sera.
Once happily stripped and under the towels on the (non ergonomic) massage chair, safely out of view from the public, I closed my eyes and let the subtle electro-trance tunes from the iDock lap over me. Rebecca, my therapist, explained every inch of her procedure, so much so that I might now be an expert in the field. She began by applying Clarins Eau Dynamisante Invigorating fragrance on my feet to encourage a sense of cool calm across my entire body. Then, the treatment began with a dry scalp massage. This did nothing for my hair but was certainly an icebreaker; I was putty in her expert hands.
A rather interesting technique followed which involved my input. Fortunately I wasn’t quite in a state of delirium at this point and I was compos mentis enough to participate. After tensing my feet, calves, thighs, stomach, arms and clenching my fists in turn I was instructed to inhale, hold my breath and then exhale leaving my muscles to relax. It was as I exhaled that Rebecca pushed on my shoulders, from behind my head, in a wave like motion. I honestly felt the strain disappear from my neck and shoulders. This process was repeated until I was like jelly on a plate.
Now, I’m the kind of guy who loves a good rub down. Why? Well, because I’m a complete stress head and after six weeks of my day-to-day life I can no longer move my neck. I regularly visit the city’s spas for my maintenance. I treat it like an MOT, a necessity and plenty of other men treat massage in the same way.
It’s not always about wasting hours and hours in a suburban spa surrounded by people called Caggie and Murdoch wearing fluffy white robes reading the FT. Sometimes you just want to get in, get out and be able to once again look for oncoming traffic without wincing. Rebecca seemed to understand this. Whilst my massage was enjoyable, immersive and smelt of lavender it was also like having my break pads checked and my oil changed. Simple, necessary (kind of manly) maintenance.
The massage took my arms, hands, calves, thighs, back, neck and shoulders into account. Rebecca’s technique methodically kneaded the lactic acid from my muscles from top to toe and even got her elbows involved for my knotted back.
I left feeling rejuvenated; a little drunk and I smelt divine which is more than I can say for when I leave the mechanics after an actual MOT.
Jordan had the Men’s Muscle Ease Treatment (1 hour, £46). Rebecca used Clarins’ Energizing Emulsion for back and legs with a specially developed lavender massage oil.
