Monday, January 21, 2008

Bathing Beauties

Wet memories:
The spa at The Palace. No clothes, no glitter, no body fluids. Once spent 14 hours or so groping and drinking red wine whilst totalley munted, came out squeaky clean and wrinkly and curiously dehydrated.
Greeting my last house with a boy and a bath. Hadn't bought bubbles yet so we squeezed in some shampoo and shared a longneck of Coopers as we squished into the tiny tub. Later I went to the health food store and bubbles that smelled like sea salt and oak.
A hotel room in Lyon. Beautiful company and expensive champagne, piles of chocolate and lots of giggles and lying next to a gorgeous creature on fluffy white pillows afterwards.
The Russian Bathhouse in the East (NY). Shorts and bathrobes and an aromatherapy sauna room. Me one of the only topless 'girls', and the only one with tits. Strange moment of staring down at my chest an being really confused to not look like one of 'the boys'.
The boy in London, in his leather Daddy's studio. The moment of truth and revelation of bodies and bits, packers and scars uncovered and wet socks on the tiles.
Skinnydipping in a rockpool in The Royal National Park a few winters ago.
The BadeHuset (?) in Christiana, Copenhagen. Naked and covered in mud, cold plunges and hot rocks.

Is the Korean Bathhouse open again yet? Need steam and scrubbing.

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