Was it 14 degrees? 20 degrees? Depends what time you checked the thermometer, but one thing’s for sure: It was damn cold today in New York City. Which made it a lousy day for outdoor toplessness but an outstanding one for visiting a spa equipped with a hot sauna, a hotter steam room, a batch of massage tables, skillful masseuses, and the makings of mimosas. (And doughnuts, and some other yummy things to eat. ¬†And books, of course–lots of books, ones trashy enough we didn’t mind damaging them by lugging them into a sauna.)
So we met, ten of us, nine f and one m, got naked or nearly so, and killed a day knocking back Kava and Tropicana, letting the sauna defrost our flash-frozen tuchuses, and letting a team of gifted professionals unknot the muscles in our shoulders, backs, thighs, aforementioned tuchuses, and more.
Did we bring a camera? Of course we did. But the lights were low, leaving us with a choice between dim, blurry pictures or garish high-contrast ones taken with a flash that would make Weegee look subtle. We got what we got. And now you get what we got.
Someday the sun will return, and like the swallows, we’ll return with it. But in the meantime–a better time, with a better crew of comrades, could not have been had.