Northern Delights
If there’s one thing us beauty journos excel in, it’s crisis management. Work woes? I can proffer the perfect MAC lipstick for it. Having a down day? It’s amazing what an uplifting fragrance (or let’s face it, any fragrance) can do. But when a friend (who shall remain nameless) was going through a particularly rough break-up, I knew that a beauty bag just wasn’t going to cut it - this was a case for some serious spa intervention
If there’s one thing us beauty journos excel in, it’s crisis management. Work woes? I can proffer the perfect MAC lipstick for it. Having a down day? It’s amazing what an uplifting fragrance (or let’s face it, any fragrance) can do. But when a friend (who shall remain nameless) was going through a particularly rough break-up, I knew that a beauty bag just wasn’t going to cut it - this was a case for some serious spa intervention
Despite my job, I don’t actually get to visit spas nearly as much as I’d like to (honest) and with the delicate task in hand, I had to make sure that this one was particularly select, my friend’s only stipulation being that she wanted to feel like she was a million miles away from home. Being a literal type of girl, I opted for one that was precisely 319 miles away and then sort of hoped for the best.
Nestled at the edge of the NorthYorkshire Moors, I reasoned that if it was good enough for Catherine it was good enough for us, although a Heathcliff thrown in wouldn’t have gone amiss.
On arriving at the rather fabulous Feversham Arms I realised that I must have been harbouring a latent southern snobbery (of which I am still furiously repenting) as I was more than a little surprised. Greeted by the soothing Yorkshire lilt of the concierge (which, considering it was gone midnight by the time we arrived was a joy in itself), we were led to our room, and by ‘room’ I’m talking a humungous bedroom-cum-living space overlooking the outside pool that could merrily house my flat twice over. Promptly falling straight asleep in the most comfortable bed I’ve slept in outside of the Beverley Hills Hotel (if you’ll excuse the gratuitous name dropping), we woke to… wait for it… sunshine! Who’d have thought it?
Now, during my somewhat extensive experience in the ups and downs of relationships, I knew that in the absence of some serious credit card abuse, nothing heals relationship trauma quite like a bit (or in this case a LOT) of distraction, which was where I donned my jester hat and let our extremely amenable location do the rest. Starting the day with a much-needed spa treatment – I went for an Ann Semonin Tailor Made Facial to pep up my winter-weary complexion, whilst my friend opted for a soothing Anne Semonin Thermal Stones Experience massage. We moved on to doing some token laps in the heated outdoor pool (it seemed rude not to). The spa is itself the perfect mix of sumptuous and cosy, with a décor and atmosphere that won’t make men feel emasculated the minute they step foot into it - in fact, we spied quite a few (not that we were looking...).
Next, we decided to hit Helmsley, the quaint medieval Market town that the Feversham resides in, which boasts it’s own castle. We may have been the only people in skinny jeans and wedges, but undeterred we managed to find a vent for our need for retail therapy, even if it was more choux pastry than shoes thanks to the plethora of tea rooms and gift shops. They say that heartbreak is the best diet a girl can do, but thanks to an obscene number of scones and the really, really good food at the Feversham - think classic cuisine that’s been locally sourced but with a modern, gastronomic twist - there was zero dieting on the agenda for us.
Rolling ourselves into bed, we finished our stay by watching the Notebook (an ill-advised choice in hindsight) and woke up ruing the fact that we couldn’t stay forever, before bidding a hasty retreat back to the big smoke.
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For more info visit www.fevershamarmshotel.com.
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