I feel overwhelmed. This is a thought I’ve had hundreds of times in 2023, but only this time did I think it and then subsequently smile. There I was, at Lapis Spa & Wellness — an extravagant ode to wellness and relaxation inside the new Fontainebleau — falling further and further into a table supporting my increasingly limp body. This being only my second-ever facial, I was not very accustomed to the euphoria I was feeling. But I wholeheartedly gave myself over to it.
Ambience
The 55,000-square-foot, two-story Lapis is a one-stop shop for traditional and progressive pampering. You have your usual high-end massages and jet-powered spa pools, yes, but you also can switch up your zen with snow showers and salt caves, which are part of Lapis’ focus on contrast therapy and luxurious escapade. All non-treatment amenities are included with the purchase of a massage/facial service or day pass. Should you possess the resources that allow you to enjoy either, I encourage you to arrive early and max out your spa-day privileges.
I did just that on the first Saturday of Lapis’ operation, when I booked a men’s facial ($230). After changing into a robe — you can go commando in the gender-specific areas (wheeee!), but do remember a swimsuit should you seek coed communion — I headed to the men’s water area, where I dunked in a jacuzzi the size of a backyard pool and blissfully de-stressed for a half-hour. This is what surviving 2023 feels like.
Treatment
Fifteen minutes later, a kind aesthetician named Ashley led me to a private treatment room, and then ushered in the aforementioned nirvana. She spoiled my mug with a wonderfully varied regimen, from simple hot wet towels (why don’t I use these more often?) to serums that cost more than any jacket I own, and further jettisoned my many toxins with an upper-body massage. There was even an acid mask — no, it didn’t hurt (though a couple of the extractions made me whimper). Afterward, Ashley told me to look in the mirror. My entire head was aglow, and even four weeks later, my non-bearded face still feels baby-butt soft.
Results
I will never forget lying there, listening to the ambient sci-fi score that accentuated my blingy bliss, and asking myself: Am I high? Dying? Or just in the throes of PG-rated ecstasy? I never answered myself. I was too deep in some glorious face feels.
