A day at the spa: Harrods Hammam

Right now, I’m very far from Harrods, London, or indeed a Moroccan Hammam experience, although a day here would be exactly what my body and mind need right now: I woke up missing home, missing the sounds of Moroccan streets (the mint and egg hawkers can be heard from the top of the road, way before they reach our house), missing home flavours… The best I can do right now is drink some mint tea and dream about being able to fly to London and going back to the Moroccan Spa at Harrods, a.k.a the Hammam.

Compared to many so-called oriental spas in London, this is the only place where you can enjoy a truly authentic Moroccan hammam treatment. This feels like home, although it is undoubtedly a far more luxurious affair than the neighbourhood public baths I would visit as a child with the Dadas, although even back then I would go more for the experience than to get me cleaned: this may come as a surprise to some who don’t know Morocco, but we do have bathrooms in most of our houses, have had for quite a few decades now… but we still love like spending an afternoon at the public baths for the gossip, the amazing scrub, and the cakes and tea afterwards.

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From the velvet-clad changing rooms to the marble-decked wet rooms, everything here screams luxe, but in a beautiful, almost understated way (don’t get me wrong: this isn’t an Asian spa where pure lines dominate, by any means… Moroccan luxe calls for embellishments, and there are copper taps and velvet sofas everywhere, but it is all done with taste and refinement, very far from the faux oriental places you find elsewhere). The marble lattice dividing the various open wet areas creates privacy spaces that you can get your treatment in whilst still chatting happily with your friends on the other side of the lattice: this is quite handy considering you spend most of the treatment in the smallest knickers I’ve ever seen…

The treatment is 100% traditional… As soon as you are robed in the fluffiest cotton gowns, you move into the warm resting room, where you get used to the temperature whilst chatting happily away. Then you are guided to the wet room, much hotter, where a kessala will bathe you from top to bottom; this is definitely not the place to be shy, you are stark naked sitting in a big empty marble room, the kessala and you are going to be close after this. First, you are slathered with black olive oil soap, which smells divine by the way, this isn’t the cheap low concentration version… The soap is left on your skin to steam through a little while, before it is brushed away with a kessa glove, exfoliating the dead skin away into what looks suspiciously like grey vermicelli, until your whole skin is left super soft and gleaming (and slightly pink from all that brushing, but that’s a temporary effect…!). The kessala also washes your hair with almond shampoo, stretches your limbs rather energetically, making you feel somewhat like a ragdoll, before rinsing you off with buckets of warm water.

All rinsed and back in your gown, you are ready for the relaxation room (home of the super plush velvet sofas), for tea, dried fruits, nuts and more chit chat, and if you feel like prolonging the experience a little, a facial or a massage. I had a massage here the last time I visited, it was absolutely blissful and I left feeling totally relaxed and ready for a quiet evening. Right now, this is exactly how I would dream of spending Saturday afternoon… hopefully soon.

With love, S.