What can Himalayan salt actually do for you?
How getting salty became the latest wellness craze
It’s everywhere: proudly displayed on a foodie’s kitchen counter, casting a coral glow in a dimly lit corner or promising a healthier scalp on the label of a Goop scrub. And it’s no wonder: Himalayan sea salt seems to perfectly capture the zeitgeist, combining the resurgence of Haight-Ashbury esotericism (cue the crystals and sage sticks now sold at Indigo) with our obsession with nutrition (kale this and keto that).
At Hoame meditation studio in Toronto, the pink stuff covers the floor and lines the walls of an entire “salt cave,” its sharp facets twinkling like gemstones. After a glass of charcoal lemonade, guests are ushered into the space and left to breathe in the salty air for an hour.
“We started to read a lot about how relaxing it is to be in a closed space and be surrounded by salt,” explains Hoame’s co-founder, psychotherapist Stephanie Kersta, who admits she was skeptical at first. “I couldn’t believe how chill I felt after. I meditate regularly, do all the things to decrease my stress, but I felt like I didn’t want to leave.”
I decide to try it out for myself, settling into one of the bean bag chairs and selecting the “cave sounds” playlist on the noisecancelling headphones. I close my eyes and eventually doze off. My fancy adult nap (it’s $45 a session) has me feeling relaxed, to be sure, but that’s not the only purported benefit.
“Halotherapy been used for centuries,” says Hoame’s other half, Carolyn Plater, also a psychotherapist.
Perched on a meditation cushion, she lists off the many virtues of the practice.
“Most of us in North America are quite deficient in iodine, so that’s one thing we can get from salt. Then there are the negative ions that are emitted and can be really helpful for us. And people also talk about salt being good for respiratory illnesses and skin conditions.”
Over at Miraj Hammam Spa, a swanky Middle-Eastern-style haven in Toronto’s Shangri-La hotel, ground Himalayan salt is swirled with grapeseed oil and scented with eucalyptus or orange blossom to create a decadent hand scrub.
“Have you ever been in a salt mine?” asks manicurist Diana, who visited one in Poland. “The air is so different. You feel amazing!”
She follows the exfoliation with a hot stone massage and a few pumps of Caudalie lotion. I don’t know if it’s the salt fumes or the complimentary mint tea and baklava, but there’s no denying my blissful state.
Unfortunately, according to dermatologist Julia Carroll, that laid-back feeling is pretty much salt’s only real effect on skin.
“If your acne flares with stress, spending a little time relaxing in a robe in a Himalayan salt cave would probably be somewhat helpful,” she says. “But with regard to salt in rock form, I would see more concerns than benefits. Since it does have jagged edges, even on microscopic levels, it could potentially cause micro-tears in the skin, which would increase inflammation.”
Some studies have found psoriasis improves in salt water, such as in the Dead Sea, which could be why salt is often hailed as a miracle skin healer. However, there is no actual literature on the effects of halotherapy or Himalayan salt specifically on skin, says Carroll.
So there goes that on the dermatology front, but what about those other reported benefits? As a scientific communicator for McGill’s Office for Science and Society, Ada McVean’s mandate consists of “separating sense from nonsense.” I ask her to give it to me straight.
“Some studies have shown short-term improvements in patients with bronchial secretions or chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, but they’ve been methodologically limited,” she says. “On the other hand, salt-based therapies have been actively disproven for many other conditions and can even aggravate some, including asthma.”
From a nutritional standpoint, Himalayan salt’s supposed superiority lies in its 84 trace minerals but, as McVean points out, only 15 of these are essential to the human body, with another seven currently designated as “possibly essential.” In other words, 62 of the 84 are effectively useless. And besides, you’d be better off eating more foods containing the good minerals rather than sprinkling pink salt on your meals.
Then there is the case of the pretty salt lamps which, apart from becoming as ubiquitous as macramé plant holders, are said to lessen the effects of seasonal depression. I’m afraid there is no good news here, either.
“Many of the claims surrounding salt lamps hinge on their ability to produce negative ions, which have been shown in some preliminary studies to help treat certain conditions like seasonal affective disorder,” says McVean. “However, there’s no real reason to think that a light bulb inside a salt block would produce negative ions, and indeed studies testing for these productions found that they did not.”
So it would appear the rosy rocks aren’t as magical as marketed. But let’s face it, when it comes to self-care, proven benefits aren’t really the point. Chalk it up to a placebo effect or the simple act of taking a few moments to yourself, but it’s usually the unwinding that’s most effective: sitting still while a sheet mask does its thing, massaging in serum with a jade roller rather than hastily slapping it on.
As Carroll puts it, “people should take it with a grain of salt and just enjoy the relaxation.”
Katherine Lalancette is the beauty director of The Kit, based in Toronto. She writes about beauty and trends. Reach her on email at kl@thekit.ca or follow her on Twitter: @kik_tweets