The Bathematics

Ladies and gentlemen, let the bathing begin.

well, my number is officially up. i’m next in line. yes, i am due for the most amazing bath i’ve ever had. i can see it now: the water will cling lovingly to me as if it had waited for this moment its entire life. the temperature will be just right, hot enough as to slightly sting as i climb in and staying warm for close to an hour. the bath will smell of a woodsy cedar something-or-other, with the aroma of rosemary or lavender-scented products wafting by every now and again. it’s an old-school bath, plain but simple, made of smooth ceramic. there are tons of windows around, or maybe it’s summer and i’m outside…enough trees to provide a buffer between me and the real world and enough space for me to feel like i can breathe. the bath is the perfect size and curves perfectly at the nape of my neck, making it easy to snuggle right in. the lighting will be excellent at dusk and i won’t even need music this time because the outdoor sounds (hello, nearby campfire) make for a primo soundtrack. in this moment, life is very sweet. there will be no screaming babies or sewer-filled tubs (see previous blog posts). and there will be absolutely zero clear sticky things floating around. 

that’s right. clear sticky things floating around. back to reality: let me tell you about my last bath experience. let me preface this by saying thank you sweetest lisa for your hospitality and for the promise of a most amazing bath. yes, everything was lining up for perfection at lisa’s temporary air b&b apartment in vancouver, which she had just moved into a day prior, and where i spent a few days recently. anyway, the bath looked new (i.e. not grimy), the tap was fancy and the water flowed easily. the shower head was a piece of modern art, there was lavender oil, there were fancy soaps, clean towels, a chicken roasting in the next room (i repeat: a chicken roasting in the next room), a slanted back for easy leaning, a head/neck cushion (which i sadly didn’t notice until the end), heated floor tiles (um, YES), light dimmers, a fluffy grey cat hanging out around the tub, my trusty bath music mix, and…jets. yes, jets. swoon.

but now, i sort of saw this coming. i thought, “i’m gonna rinse the crap out of those jets just to be sure everything is perfect”. i was a bit wet and cold from walking in the rain that day. i’d had a long week of strategic planning meetings. so i was extra determined to have the best bath ever and wipe away any bad past bath memories. and, to be fair, it was glorious. for all of five minutes. that’s when i started to notice, in the dim light, little clear sticky things floating around me and sticking to my skin. i tried not to freak out and tried pushing them aside. but nope, they were everywhere and multiplying. ICK. super f*cking ick. i imagine it must have been old soap scum or something stuck in the jet propellers for god knows how long. i honestly tried to let it go as lisa took a few pics for the sake of the blog post but i honestly didn’t last much longer after that. i rinsed myself off with the artful shower head, disappointed beyond belief but not having the heart to admit to lisa that i was totally and completely grossed out. i took comfort in the roast chicken, in a gluten-free chocolate cupcake and in lisa’s sweet and often hilarious company, watching cat shows and a batman movie in bed. 

so please understand my apprehension at taking and reviewing my next bath. it seems like a cruel joke of some sort, like “haha, she loves baths and started this bath blog, let’s make her SUFFER!”. or maybe the bar is set too high, maybe my standards for the perfect dream bath are somewhat naïve and unhealthy. regardless, i will forever refuse to settle for clear sticky things creeping up on me in my bath (or for that matter, anywhere else). and until that day, that magnificent day when some mystery bath redeems my faith in bathing once again, until it’s my turn to finally live the dream…i’m sticking to showers. 

  • size matters: perfect size for me, could comfortably rest my feet on the edge of the bath… 4 out of 5 (because only a clawfoot gets a 5)
  • accoutrements: lavender oil, clean towels, fancy soap, heated floor tiles, etc. there may even have been a candle. 5 out of 5 
  • mood ring: great atmosphere, super relaxing… until the grossness. roasting chicken, fluffy cat, light dimmers, etc. 3 out of 5
  • frills: the gross jets with the clear sticky things broke my heart. -5 out of 5. 
  • total score: 7. sorry!

Booberry Cosmetics

I met up with BooBerry’s Veronique Ouellette a few months back to check out her home studio and ask her a few questions about her bathing habits and preferences and to watch her make some of her products.

First she gave me a little tour of her workspace and showed me the crazy amount of oils and essences that she had. I found myself cross legged in her hallway drooling over vials of delicious and/or interesting scents like chocolate brownie (which I had to stop myself from trying to ingest), pecan pie, campfire, dirt and pear.

I came home with an armload of products to try out that I have now become obsessed with. 

Not only does she make really awesome soaps, lotions and sprays but she is a really sweet person that has a soft spot for 90’s music, kitchy seashell sculptures and old school video games. 

Tyson: Ok, Who are you and what’s your companies name?

Veronique: I’m Veronique Oulette of Booberry Cosmetics. 

T: Which of your own products do you use in the bath?

V: All of them.

T: Well, are there any in particular that you are favouring right now?

V: Well, it’s not for the bath but there’s a moisturizer that I really like to make right now. Oh, and  I make a deep conditioner for bleach blonde hair because I have fried hair that I bleach and straighten every day. 

T: What type of music or what bands do you listen to while taking a bath?

V: Afghan Whigs.

T: What is the best bath you’ve ever taken?

V: Oh… I don’t take many baths…. Well, when I was a kid, we used to have this bathtub that was, like, awesome, it was this deep (raises hand to about waist height) and I could sit in it and the water would be up to my chin. I would kind of use it as a pool . Yeah, it was really cool, so I would say that was the best bath. It was awesome. 

T: That was in your home? 

V: Yeah, it was great, you would love it. It was short but really deep. 

T: It’s the dream bath. My parents had a weird Jacuzzi type tub when we grew up that was square and deep but it took forever to fill up and our hot water tank was too small, so the bath would never get that warm just kind of tepid/ lukewarm bath.

 What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without bathing or showering?

V: 4 days.

T:4 days?! OK, bubbles or no bubbles?

V: Bubbles for sure. 

T: Loofa or washcloth?

V: uhhh loofa?

T: If you could fill up the bathtub with anything else besides water what would it be?

V: Hot sauce. 

T: Hot sauce?! And you’d get in it?

V: Yeah. I love hot sauce. I always wanted to bathe in hot sauce.

T: Would you be eating it while you were in it?

V: Yeah, I’d bring some chips in there, I’d be so happy.

T: I guess you could sprinkle some chips all over and munch on them. 

V: Yeah, just eat while you bathe. 

You can check out Booberry’s etsy shop here and her Facebook page here

TB

Some people like to listen to music when they relax. I really love to listen to podcasts, especially old time audio dramas. In past posts I’ve talked about some modern radio dramas that have been popping up here and there over the last few years. Some not so good, others brilliant. But the real treasures are the older original productions like 1940’s  Inner Sanctum Mysteries. 
This show really stands out as it had some pretty big stars on it keeping the acting tight and reasonably corny free. I still find a few episodes a little scary. Boris Karloff, Orson Welles and Frank Sinatra all had roles in single episodes. 
So, if you feel like being a little distracted while you soak, I highly recommend Inner Sanctum Mysteries. I’ve been wading through some real garbage as far as audio dramas go, so you don’t have to. Believe me, this is the cream of the crop!

TB

Some people like to listen to music when they relax. I really love to listen to podcasts, especially old time audio dramas. In past posts I’ve talked about some modern radio dramas that have been popping up here and there over the last few years. Some not so good, others brilliant. But the real treasures are the older original productions like 1940’s  Inner Sanctum Mysteries.

This show really stands out as it had some pretty big stars on it keeping the acting tight and reasonably corny free. I still find a few episodes a little scary. Boris Karloff, Orson Welles and Frank Sinatra all had roles in single episodes.

So, if you feel like being a little distracted while you soak, I highly recommend Inner Sanctum Mysteries. I’ve been wading through some real garbage as far as audio dramas go, so you don’t have to. Believe me, this is the cream of the crop!

TB

Can we really have a bath blog and not do a post with this scene in it? Or is it too obvious? Well  here it is anyway.

TB

This would probably be a pretty shitty bath. I would give it a 2.

TB

I’m sure you all read Manon’s last post about her sewer bath. It made me think of sharing other awful bath experiences that I’ve had. I’m torn about revealing them as my partner seems to be having second thoughts about bathing again after the literal shit storm she came home to recently. 
I’m very interested in not only reviewing fancy tubs in nice hotels but also experiencing the other half. Roadside motels and hotels can have a certain charm. Maybe the tub itself isn’t anything to write home about but there is something to be said about being surrounded by decor that hasn’t changed since the 60’s. 
Unfortunately, sometimes what can be said about the decor can also be said about the frequency of cleaning. Mid way through a long road trip from Winnipeg to Montreal I had stopped at a roadside motel for the evening. The place was OK and looked about as clean as you would expect without totally traumatizing me. I decided to take a bath and was thrilled to see that it had jets! So, here I am, sitting in the tub waiting for it to fill up so I can get blasted by 8 turbo jets and relax. 
The time has come, I flip the switch and they sputter to life. I remember thinking that it sounded to me what I always though Archie Andrews jalopy would sound like if he and his Riverdale High gang were real. 
Now, beard or moustache aside, I’m not a hairy man. Whenever I take a bath, there is no gross ring of man hair circling the tub. I’m relatively non hairy and I make sure to keep everything trimmed and in control down there. So, you can imagine my horror when I noticed that there was suddenly an unreasonable amount of hair now swirling around in the bath around me. 
I was flooded with the realization that the jets had been packed with pubes and bolted up to my feet…. but not before a Band-Aid slithered across my thigh. 
I could not get that shower hot enough to clean myself afterwards. A gross experience? Yup. But, this fearless bather will try again! 
If you know of any cool motels send the info my way. I mean really, I don’t think it could get any worse than this, right?

TB

I’m sure you all read Manon’s last post about her sewer bath. It made me think of sharing other awful bath experiences that I’ve had. I’m torn about revealing them as my partner seems to be having second thoughts about bathing again after the literal shit storm she came home to recently.

I’m very interested in not only reviewing fancy tubs in nice hotels but also experiencing the other half. Roadside motels and hotels can have a certain charm. Maybe the tub itself isn’t anything to write home about but there is something to be said about being surrounded by decor that hasn’t changed since the 60’s.

Unfortunately, sometimes what can be said about the decor can also be said about the frequency of cleaning. Mid way through a long road trip from Winnipeg to Montreal I had stopped at a roadside motel for the evening. The place was OK and looked about as clean as you would expect without totally traumatizing me. I decided to take a bath and was thrilled to see that it had jets! So, here I am, sitting in the tub waiting for it to fill up so I can get blasted by 8 turbo jets and relax.

The time has come, I flip the switch and they sputter to life. I remember thinking that it sounded to me what I always though Archie Andrews jalopy would sound like if he and his Riverdale High gang were real.

Now, beard or moustache aside, I’m not a hairy man. Whenever I take a bath, there is no gross ring of man hair circling the tub. I’m relatively non hairy and I make sure to keep everything trimmed and in control down there. So, you can imagine my horror when I noticed that there was suddenly an unreasonable amount of hair now swirling around in the bath around me.

I was flooded with the realization that the jets had been packed with pubes and bolted up to my feet…. but not before a Band-Aid slithered across my thigh.

I could not get that shower hot enough to clean myself afterwards. A gross experience? Yup. But, this fearless bather will try again!

If you know of any cool motels send the info my way. I mean really, I don’t think it could get any worse than this, right?

TB

Oh my God, it’s a bat getting a bath! That guy is so cute, I just want to smash him!

TB

Oh my God, it’s a bat getting a bath! That guy is so cute, I just want to smash him!

TB

A bath blogger’s worst nightmare

holy mother of all horrors! behold the bath blogger’s ultimate worst nightmare: the sewer shit-filled bathtub. that’s right people. a bathtub filled with shit from the sewer. GOD.

here i was, totally disgusted by tyson’s previous poop-in-a-public-jacuzzi story. little did i know, that was a mere galaxy in the cosmos of disgusting bath stories. my story, on the other hand, is its own little universe of terrifying grossness. again: GOD.

there i was, pleased as punch to be on my way back home from québec city to montréal after a hectic 7-day work week, sitting in the back of some swanky vehicle. i also have to mention that i’d been staying at the fancy-pants château frontenac for the past four days, which, needless to say, has fancy-pants bathtubs. so i was feeling pretty fancy in my pants. anyway, as we were approaching montréal,  i noticed a message from an unknown number on my cell. “hmm, wonder who that could be?”. little did i know, it was a call from the bath death reaper, come to slay my joy and passion for all things related to baths. asshole! on the message, my landlord even dared imply that the problem would “probably” only be solved the following day. didn’t she understand that this was a national fucking emergency?

but i’m glad i was warned. the sight of it all was enough to make any grown bath blogger weep for days. the entire tub, filled with murky human crap. the toilet, filled with the same said crap, but worse— someone else’s poop, someone else’s dirty tampons. that’s right, people. and all of that overflowing over my bathroom and part of my kitchen floor. my quiet sanctuary, my place of bathing and cleansing, my peace and joy, all totally assaulted by other people’s disgusting shit. i went through all the phases: denial, anger, bargaining, utter depression…all save for acceptance. i mean, how could this be happening to ME? of all people, really, me? a bath blogger? someone who once hated baths, only to overcome her fear and learn to love them? well, if there was ever any doubt, now i know for sure: “someone” has my number and they know how to use it. AND they control montreal’s sewer system. all together now: GOD.

and now, after the plumbers have done their thing, after my landlord has cleaned my place inside out, after i have scrubbed the shit out of it a second and third time with the most bleachiest products in all the land, i fear that i will never look at a bathtub the same way again. the image of floating feces and god only knows what else has tainted my dearest and most cherished bath dreams. 

so, people, be warned! if i am convinced to take a bath again someday, which will be no easy feat, and live to write a review of it: your bathtub better be fucking spotless. otherwise no self-respecting part of my body and soul will enter your bathroom. and you will get a big fat -10 score. 

now please excuse me while i go google “bath trauma” and rock myself to sleep.

yours truly (horrified),

m

image

UGH.

image

GOD. 

image

on a parting note, here is the lovely bath in my room at the château frontenac, aka the calm before the storm.

Fun Mountain
All kids love waterparks. But I think a certain experience as a young boy has really tainted my fondness towards them. Hot tubs in particular. Just imagine the ratio of actual water to piss in a water park that’s hosting several hundred kids. 
I can remember vividly after hitting the slides at Winnipeg’s “Fun Mountain” (well more of a hill than a mountain, but we’ll take what we can get in the Prairies,am I right folks?!) walking over to the large hot tub and jumping in. It wasn’t until we were already submerged in the tepid water for a few minutes that my Father noticed something alarming…..
"Hey Tys, (he’s one of the few people that calls me Tys) look at the color of the pool wall above the water and now look at the wall below the water line."
The concrete tub was huge and could easily fit 20-30 people in it. The walls were painted white but when you looked below the waterline it was a dark yellow. We immediately hopped out, completely grossed out.
As we were about to leave we looked at the tub one more time from our new vantage point and noticed a lady sitting in the water at the edge of the tub. A piece of shit was lightly bobbing in the water, next to her, gently tapping her shoulder. After a few seconds she turns her head to see who’s trying to get her attention. When she realizes that it’s literally a piece of shit, she screams and everyone gets out of the hot tub en masse! A lifeguard notices all the commotion and comes by with a big net and scoops the lil’ culprit out of the water. And to our horror and sick amazement, everyone jumps right back in! Phew, coast clear…. I guess.
Ever since then, I’ve avoided water parks and most public hot tubs. Am I being paranoid? Maybe. But I will always check the contrast of the color of the walls of a tub above and below the water. Just to be safe. That’s a little tip from me to you, for free-sies!

TB

Fun Mountain

All kids love waterparks. But I think a certain experience as a young boy has really tainted my fondness towards them. Hot tubs in particular. Just imagine the ratio of actual water to piss in a water park that’s hosting several hundred kids. 

I can remember vividly after hitting the slides at Winnipeg’s “Fun Mountain” (well more of a hill than a mountain, but we’ll take what we can get in the Prairies,am I right folks?!) walking over to the large hot tub and jumping in. It wasn’t until we were already submerged in the tepid water for a few minutes that my Father noticed something alarming…..

"Hey Tys, (he’s one of the few people that calls me Tys) look at the color of the pool wall above the water and now look at the wall below the water line."

The concrete tub was huge and could easily fit 20-30 people in it. The walls were painted white but when you looked below the waterline it was a dark yellow. We immediately hopped out, completely grossed out.

As we were about to leave we looked at the tub one more time from our new vantage point and noticed a lady sitting in the water at the edge of the tub. A piece of shit was lightly bobbing in the water, next to her, gently tapping her shoulder. After a few seconds she turns her head to see who’s trying to get her attention. When she realizes that it’s literally a piece of shit, she screams and everyone gets out of the hot tub en masse! A lifeguard notices all the commotion and comes by with a big net and scoops the lil’ culprit out of the water. And to our horror and sick amazement, everyone jumps right back in! Phew, coast clear…. I guess.

Ever since then, I’ve avoided water parks and most public hot tubs. Am I being paranoid? Maybe. But I will always check the contrast of the color of the walls of a tub above and below the water. Just to be safe. That’s a little tip from me to you, for free-sies!

TB

Treat yourself and listen to some amazing audio drama in the bath this afternoon……

creature-features:

Autumn By Darker Projects and David Moody

For those of you that have been following this blog for a while, you know I’m a fan of old timey Audio Dramas. There are newer production companies putting out cool horror themed shows but finding a really good one can be tough. My iPod has been filled with them for years now and I can tell you that it can be a rough ride finding a really solidly produced and acted show.

Darker Projects have released some great titles in the past. Although the releases tend to be a bit spotty here and there, the catalogue is pretty full, so there will be something  for everyone. 

Autumn, an audio dramatization of a book by David Moody is one of my favourite titles in the DP archives. I first heard it in the Fall of 2007 and it has become a tradition of mine to revisit the 6 episodes every October. 

David Moody’s take on the zombie/infected apocalypse story focuses on 3 main characters,  Michael Collins (voiced by David Ault), Emma Mitchell (voiced by Rebecca McCarthy) and Carl Henshawe (voiced by Mark Kalita) and how they deal with the new horrors that they live with by themselves and with each other. They each have their own opinions on where is a safe place to live, how to fortify said place and how to survive in an infected wasteland.  I won’t go into much detail with the story as it’s relatively short and i’d like to keep this spoiler free. 

For those of you who are new to the whole audio drama thing, there are a few hurdles to initially get over. Things/scenes tend to get explained in a little more detail than they would normally in a visual format which can come off as corny at first. But it obviously helps to visualize and bring to life (in your noggin’ at least) the story. Some of the acting can also seem a little too stagey but this will grow on you, I promise. Some of the  extra character work can be a little cringe worthy but fortunately, they are few and far between, thank Christ. 

Most of you will probably be pretty tired on New Years Day, so what better way to spend it than in your cozy bed, with a glass of ginger ale next to you and your iPod (or Zune for you weirdos) plugged into your head. All the episodes are free in the iTunes store. 

TB

                                                                                 Spas Count.

Tonight, I bathed. Not exactly in a bath but at the spa, which consisted of many different types of bathing and relaxation: eucalyptus steam room, dry sauna, massive hot tub with waterfall, cool shower station and ice-cold basin. Comparing this experience with taking a regular bath is sort of like comparing a good car to a private jet plane…But anyway. 

Now, I’ve been to a similar outdoor scandinavian spa before (Le Nordik in Chelsea, in the Outaouais region), which seemed like a pretty sweet deal. And I guess it is…if sticking with the previous comparison, I might say it’s something of a cadillac or limousine. Which was all fine and good until I flew into Le Scandinave in Old Montreal. I wasn’t expecting much, honestly…after hanging out at Le Nordik under the moon and stars, I expected this to feel about relaxing as a hotel sauna. Shit, was I wrong.

Numero uno: the strict no-talking policy, which struck me as kind of stuck-up at first, was a huge factor in making my experience super primo. Seriously, if I had a buck for all the times I’d had to put up with annoying fools talking about their dumb-ass bullshit while trying to zen out at Le Nordik…Also, this might sound weird, but they offered free hooded bathrobes (hooded! And Le Nordik makes you pay for them…cheap!) which made me feel like I was surrounded by monks. Quiet, sleepy monks. Amazing.

Numeros dos: the hot tub.  To its credit, it didn’t look at all like a hot tub and seemed more like a dream bath: a large rectangle with underwater perch at just the right height as to allow resting one’s head on the ledge. Lots of jets, underwater coloured lights (I’m a sucker for these, personally), a massive waterfall and not a lot of people in it. Also the tiny one-person cold water basin was attached to the tub, which made it easy as pie to dunk in as soon as I’d had my fill.

Numero tres: The resting rooms: why don’t we have more resting areas in our washrooms, I wonder? They ain’t called restrooms for no reason. Imagine this: Super dim lights, spacey but not cheesy music, massive beanbag chairs and pillows…There’s just something perfect about getting out of the tub and crashing right next to it in the dark for awhile. I’m telling you folks, it makes a world of difference. People would be happier. Wars would be avoided. Things would make more sense.

Fourthly (I’m tired of counting in Spanish, it’s annoying me): The sauna and steam rooms. The temperature in both rooms was perfection. How many stinking times have I been in either of these types of areas feeling like I might pass out after two minutes or like I’m not actually warming up? This only goes to remind me how important water temperature and heating are when bathing. If it was up to me, they could have added a tad more eucalyptus oil in the steam room but I’m assuming the guy who was next to me and sneezing continuously would disagree.

Lastly: the service. People, when inviting someone (read: Tyson or I) into the sanctuary that is your bathroom, remember that god is in the details: abundance of clean towels, class-act cleansing products, food and drink, etc. Le Scandinave didn’t skip a beat in terms of making sure my friend and I were completely set up: there was even a small container with hair elastics for us gals who forget to bring some with us everywhere we go.

Anyway, I know it isn’t fair to review a bath that isn’t really a bath. But it’s water, it’s in the bathing category, and it made me feel like a gazillion bucks. Oh, and it was just $36 for the evening. Pretty cheap for such a sweet ride. 

Check it out, big time ($36 promo on until December 20th): http://www.scandinave.com/en/montreal/ 

                                                                                 Spas Count.


Tonight, I bathed. Not exactly in a bath but at the spa, which consisted of many different types of bathing and relaxation: eucalyptus steam room, dry sauna, massive hot tub with waterfall, cool shower station and ice-cold basin. Comparing this experience with taking a regular bath is sort of like comparing a good car to a private jet plane…But anyway. 

Now, I’ve been to a similar outdoor scandinavian spa before (Le Nordik in Chelsea, in the Outaouais region), which seemed like a pretty sweet deal. And I guess it is…if sticking with the previous comparison, I might say it’s something of a cadillac or limousine. Which was all fine and good until I flew into Le Scandinave in Old Montreal. I wasn’t expecting much, honestly…after hanging out at Le Nordik under the moon and stars, I expected this to feel about relaxing as a hotel sauna. Shit, was I wrong.

Numero uno: the strict no-talking policy, which struck me as kind of stuck-up at first, was a huge factor in making my experience super primo. Seriously, if I had a buck for all the times I’d had to put up with annoying fools talking about their dumb-ass bullshit while trying to zen out at Le Nordik…Also, this might sound weird, but they offered free hooded bathrobes (hooded! And Le Nordik makes you pay for them…cheap!) which made me feel like I was surrounded by monks. Quiet, sleepy monks. Amazing.

Numeros dos: the hot tub.  To its credit, it didn’t look at all like a hot tub and seemed more like a dream bath: a large rectangle with underwater perch at just the right height as to allow resting one’s head on the ledge. Lots of jets, underwater coloured lights (I’m a sucker for these, personally), a massive waterfall and not a lot of people in it. Also the tiny one-person cold water basin was attached to the tub, which made it easy as pie to dunk in as soon as I’d had my fill.

Numero tres: The resting rooms: why don’t we have more resting areas in our washrooms, I wonder? They ain’t called restrooms for no reason. Imagine this: Super dim lights, spacey but not cheesy music, massive beanbag chairs and pillows…There’s just something perfect about getting out of the tub and crashing right next to it in the dark for awhile. I’m telling you folks, it makes a world of difference. People would be happier. Wars would be avoided. Things would make more sense.

Fourthly (I’m tired of counting in Spanish, it’s annoying me): The sauna and steam rooms. The temperature in both rooms was perfection. How many stinking times have I been in either of these types of areas feeling like I might pass out after two minutes or like I’m not actually warming up? This only goes to remind me how important water temperature and heating are when bathing. If it was up to me, they could have added a tad more eucalyptus oil in the steam room but I’m assuming the guy who was next to me and sneezing continuously would disagree.

Lastly: the service. People, when inviting someone (read: Tyson or I) into the sanctuary that is your bathroom, remember that god is in the details: abundance of clean towels, class-act cleansing products, food and drink, etc. Le Scandinave didn’t skip a beat in terms of making sure my friend and I were completely set up: there was even a small container with hair elastics for us gals who forget to bring some with us everywhere we go.

Anyway, I know it isn’t fair to review a bath that isn’t really a bath. But it’s water, it’s in the bathing category, and it made me feel like a gazillion bucks. Oh, and it was just $36 for the evening. Pretty cheap for such a sweet ride. 


Check it out, big time ($36 promo on until December 20th): http://www.scandinave.com/en/montreal/ 

ugh, why am i not here right now?
this particular mix of a cool white porcelain tub with warm wood paneling is pretty much my idea of bath heaven. 
bath porn courtesy of dwell magazine’s special bath & spa edition (2012-2013).

ugh, why am i not here right now?

this particular mix of a cool white porcelain tub with warm wood paneling is pretty much my idea of bath heaven. 

bath porn courtesy of dwell magazine’s special bath & spa edition (2012-2013).

Behold this true masterpiece of the bathing variety.
Major sigh.
MD

Behold this true masterpiece of the bathing variety.

Major sigh.

MD

Smell like a man!
Veronique Ouellette from Booberry Cosmetics had told me about her “Campfire” scented body cream and I was really intrigued by the idea of smelling like burnt wood. So, I recently paid her a visit at her studio and came home with an armload of treats.
We sat down and after a short little interview (coming up next week) she got down to work making the Campfire body butter from scratch in her cute studio/apartment.
I’ve used homemade creams before and they usually leave you feeling pretty greasy but the Campfire keeps you dry and smooth. Oh, and did I mention it smells like a fucking campfire!? Well, it does and it’s awesome. 
As most of you know, I love the smell of cedar and wood. So, Veronique made me a new body spray that has cedar, rosemary, cypress, dirt and pine oils in it. It literally smells like a shovel full of forest earth. I love camping and the combination of the campfire cream and the forest floor body spray make me feel like I’ve spent a week in the deep woods.
And if the body spray is too much for you, maybe the Forest Floor soap is more up your alley. It smells very similar to the spray but a little milder. 
I’ve been using a combination of all three products over the last two weeks and feedback has been great….. although one person told me I smelled like salad greens…..
It’s nice to see someone making bath and body products that are a little less fruity and floral and more natural and subtle. I’ll definitely be buying a little trio pack of these items for Christmas gifts this year.
Check out her Etsy shop for more products and be sure to visit her at this years Puces Pop, here in Montreal over the Holiday season.

Smell like a man!

Veronique Ouellette from Booberry Cosmetics had told me about her “Campfire” scented body cream and I was really intrigued by the idea of smelling like burnt wood. So, I recently paid her a visit at her studio and came home with an armload of treats.

We sat down and after a short little interview (coming up next week) she got down to work making the Campfire body butter from scratch in her cute studio/apartment.

I’ve used homemade creams before and they usually leave you feeling pretty greasy but the Campfire keeps you dry and smooth. Oh, and did I mention it smells like a fucking campfire!? Well, it does and it’s awesome.

As most of you know, I love the smell of cedar and wood. So, Veronique made me a new body spray that has cedar, rosemary, cypress, dirt and pine oils in it. It literally smells like a shovel full of forest earth. I love camping and the combination of the campfire cream and the forest floor body spray make me feel like I’ve spent a week in the deep woods.

And if the body spray is too much for you, maybe the Forest Floor soap is more up your alley. It smells very similar to the spray but a little milder.

I’ve been using a combination of all three products over the last two weeks and feedback has been great….. although one person told me I smelled like salad greens…..

It’s nice to see someone making bath and body products that are a little less fruity and floral and more natural and subtle. I’ll definitely be buying a little trio pack of these items for Christmas gifts this year.

Check out her Etsy shop for more products and be sure to visit her at this years Puces Pop, here in Montreal over the Holiday season.