This one’s for you Ladies!

What a day. What a day! My eyes are full from the lushness and sparkle of diamonds, emeralds, garnets, amethyst, and Patek Philippe watches; and my self is aglow from the pampering. My step is a tad more brisk from the loveliness-es that are my toes. My gestures are a bit more graceful from the glisten that flashes from my impeccable nails. My height is at its full 5’10” due to the swing from my brilliant hair cut. My memory warms at the recollection of yummy chocolate confections and café au lait made to perfection. My hands and feet are soft to the touch from lotions and massage. My nose is filled with the scent of money well spent. My wallet has a dent. Wonderful dent. Worthy dent. When can we go again?

1100 hours we leave Oudayas for the taxi ride to Souissi (26 dirhams). Truly from the East End to Knightsbridge. I am beyond wonder that the Oudayas has not yet been gentrified, it is all riverfront or on the ocean side. As Q says, “It is a good thing, at least this way it gets to keep most of its soul.” The child has a point. There are expats scattered about here and there, and they get the students coming in to stay for six to eight months but the rest are life long residents.

Club Moving is on one corner of the street in a very modern sleek, deliciously a/c cooled building. Jacques Dessange is at the other end of a block with the stonewalls filled port to stern with gorgeous flowers.

We arrive at Dessange at 1250 hours after our visit to Club Moving; I am holding back on that story pending the outcome. The elegant building is set in a lush oriental garden filled with flowers, trees and fountains and a pond. The only thing I found to find fault with all day was they could really use a better filtration system. Where upon we walked in, announced we would like a manicure, pedicure, and hair cut with blow dry for me and a massage for Q. On first glance I am tempted to order whatever combination of treatments will make me look like the gorgeous young woman, Nawal, at reception. She speedily sets us up with our assigned crews and gets us into motion. The salon has a still, calm quality to it with no harsh smells (the color room is separate) or colors. It is blissfully cool.

The very large, I am so thinking ‘eunuch of the harem’ (but I am SURE he is not, just the movie image), looms up silently behind me with a white robe, drapes me into it, and leads me into the salon to a chair. He then brings me a delicious espresso in a lovely china cup and saucer.

Muss then comes to take me in for the hair wash, which feels like luscious lather of something that smells of cinnamon and tops it off with a massage to relieve any headaches I may decide to have for the next two weeks.

After my shampoo, he wakes me from the slumber I have fallen into from relaxation and leads me back to the chair and the rest of my espresso. Malika appears in front of me with her little silver suitcase of goodies and a foot-massaging footbath. Next up is Nuss who looks like a Moroccan version of Jose’ Eber of “Shake your head darling” fame. He takes my instructions, “Cut it to shoulder length with ver-r-ry long layers. It is very dry.”

“I will put something special for you. I will put a serum to *some word I don’t understand but sounds divine along with the hand description”. I feel in good hands. As he dives in with the scissors the lovely Layla shows up and sets up on my right side for the manicure.

With Nuss at my head, Layla massaging my hands, and Malika painting my toenails I was in some form of heavenly bliss. Better than food, better than shopping, better than riding, better than…yes hold the phone at that one…not better than intimate physical contact with a gorgeous person of the opposite (or attractive) sex but really, really close.

I am a hair person, as in if my hair looks great then I am good to go. I live in terror of new hairdressers, but once committed I adhere to the policy, “No matter what happens it will grow back, and it grows very quickly.” So I kept my gaze averted. Actually with all the wonderful massaging and stroking and brushing I kept my eyes closed in some sort of self-indulgent meditation.

The hand massage was fabulous; my hands felt five years younger. The line of the defining white color on the French pedicure looked as if it had been placed with a plumb line, perfection. My haircut? My hair? I LOVE my haircut! It looks smashing. From the kid, “OOOh Mom its very sexy, very edgy…. It’s very French.”

“Shake your head darling.” And he has me bend over, he fluffs it out with the dryer, I raise up and shake my head and – perfection! I love my haircut.

Sometime during what Q called “quite a production” she returned from her Swiss massage by a Russian masseuse in the Moroccan salon. The report is, “it was delightful.”

They had us in, four on me, and one on Q and thus had us out, everything done to perfection in a little over an hour! Five stars really. Total cost for both of us plus a healthy tip for all came to 1000 dirhams. Dessange is located at 1, Avenue Ahmed Balafrej, Souissi, Rabat. Salon 037 65 76 46.

Tomorrow the tale of the Mega Mall of Souissi – there is Curling! Yes, you heard me. I took photographs for you. A terrible restaurant, a wonderful desert place, and scads of divine clothes and jewels.