…and I LOVE it. Awesome pal Mary Z was in for the weekend from En Zed (that’s New Zealand to seppos like you and me), and I wanted to give her many unique LA experiences. Olympic Spa (playfully christened ‘Booby Town’ by awesome pal Bri) in Koreatown was tops on my list.
It’s women-only, which is refreshing, so check your modesty at the door and leave your shoes and clothes in a locker. Prepare for maximum exposure.
There’s a hot pool filled with a healing tea brew, another super hot tub, and an icy plunge pool or two. A sauna and a steam room. And a bigger room filled with stainless steel sinks and hoses and gurneys where the take-no-prisoners rubdowns happen. Burke Williams, it ain’t.
At first the plunge pool concept scared me. (Brrrr.) But it’s an all-natural, stimulant-free RUSH. If you can make it past the first step on the ladder, you won’t be sorry.
And the Akasuri Scrub ($30, plus $15 for use of the pools, etc.) is SERIOUS. These Korean ladies are NOT playing. You will be scrubbed within an inch of your life. As Mary said, “they actually got behind my EARS.” And my friend Alex, visiting L.A. from Chicago a few weeks ago, could not believe her baby-soft elbows.
They also feature luxury toilets, which apparently spray your lady parts with a welcoming mist. Some people get excited about this double-duty toilet/bidet. I’m a bit more cautious. I have a mental image of myself leaping off the thing when the ‘mist’ turns out to be a ‘geyser.’ No thanks.
I wish I could find a picture of the heated ‘jade’ floor — it’s fabulous. Before, between or after your treatment, you hop up on what looks like a stage, sandwich yourself between blankets, try not to think about the sweaty, greasy person who blanketed herself before you, and take a luxurious, warm and therapeutic NAP. Best part! (Next to the elbows.)
But back to the boobs. EVERYWHERE. Who knew they came in so many shapes and sizes?! Guess I wasn’t paying enough attention in my high school locker room. Plus, it’s LA, baby — so some of them are jumbo-sized, gravity-defying orbs of awesomeness. (Not the case at Hinsdale Central.) I was transfixed.
Now, before you judge me as a voyeuse (I can feel you judging me!) know that these pools are TINY. It’s hard enough to find an empty place to put your bootay, let alone your eyes!
I’ve heard people say that this is a great place for a girlie gathering, as opposed, say, to an afternoon garden party at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Hm. I love my galpals, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not so sure I’m ready to introduce ‘my girls’ to ‘the girls.’
Care to weigh in, ladies? C’mon. Don’t be a boob.