A manicure that’s good as gold
In this Star series, a reporter tries an extravagant treatment at the Four Seasons Hotel
Would you shell out $85 to get slathered in gold? I did. I recently headed to Toronto’s ritzy Four Seasons Hotel spa to spend the better part of an hour getting my slovenly self — well, my hands — transformed into a golden glamazon. I was there for a treatment called the “luxury gold manicure” — an uber-pampering that includes a gold sugar scrub, a gold oil treatment, a hot stone arm massage and an arm mask, among a slew of other fun arm indulgences. Jackpot! When I walk into the hotel lobby, I feel very Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada — totally out of my element. Tom Ford suits and Prada bags of varying designs dot the walls in display cases. The guests flitting in and out are dressed to the nines.
By the time I find my way to the spa on the ninth floor, I relax. It’s hard to feel self-conscious when someone is pressing a fluffy robe into your hands and offering you tea. I’m hit with a second wave of wonder, though, when I discover the change room bathrooms are half the size of my apartment.
Next, I’m seated in front of a longlashed, perfectly groomed esthetician named Jennifer Balazic. She’s got an army of gold-flaked oils and scrubs.
“The purpose of the gold is to repair your skin cells and strengthen them and repair micro damage,” says Balazic.
I’m dubious, but hey, I’m here for a pampering.
For the next 50 minutes, Balazic massages my forearms and hands, alternating between applying the gold sugar scrub, a tingly mud mask, gold shimmer oil and hot stones. The stone massage is the best. It feels like a tiny rolling pin coaxing knots out of delicate muscles I didn’t know I had.
But I still feel out of my element. “This is so weird,” I chuckle as I wait for the mud mask to dry on my arms.
Chatting with Balazic, I try to glean insight into the lives of people for whom an extravagant pampering is the norm.
She says she’s treated celebrities, but won’t name names, and that they are all “so nice” and “super friendly.”
“Sometimes you don’t even recognize them because they’re just chilling in their robe,” she says.
Because of a booking mix-up, the appointment ended just short of an hour — a mistake for which the spa apologized and offered to make up with a complimentary manicure and pedicure — but I still leave the hotel feeling especially glowy.
Afterward, my friends cooed over the bright red polish and sparkly gold flecks still shimmering on my arms. The gold washed away in the shower.
If I wanted the whole shebang, I’d likely have to go the Rihanna route, splashing out on a $5,000 bottle of the 24-karat-gold polish she sported at the 2012 Grammys.
As for the manicure itself, the Vinylux polish lasted the better part of a week, even surviving a weekend of moving tree stumps, shovelling dirt and hauling racks.
While I don’t foresee myself indulging in a gold mani again, and find the emphasis on gold in the treatment gimmicky, it felt indulgent sharing a space beloved by the rich and famous, even for an afternoon.
Anne Hathaway be damned. I could get used to this.