"Embrace the silence." That's what is written on the plaques outside the relaxation room/library (yes, library -- where, mercifully, cell phones are prohibited) at the Cornelia Day Resort. Indeed, each and every room in this exquisitely designed and appointed day spa engenders relaxation -- and luxury. (There's even a private side-street entrance for boldface names to use.) Romanian-born Cornelia Zicu has created a haven of sanctum in midtown, and even the little gift shop (with carefully edited wares) is peaceful. There are glorious treatments to be had here, too, from the signatures facials ($175 and up, depending on which "enhancers" you opt for, which might include the balancing peel or the oxygen revitalizer), soaking baths (Romanian mud, honey harmony), and all types of massages. There are seaweed pedicures, and special packages for the bride and her party, and on and on, but perhaps the most innovative of all the services is the Watsu massage, which is performed in a penthouse-level, private pool filled with 20,000 bottles of salinated Evian water. Really. Not surprisingly, 30% of the clientele is male, who also come for special facials, hand- and foot-grooming, waxing, and of course, to visit the barbershop. The best part of this sybaritic indulgence is that you can take home a bit of Cornelia, since the salon also sells three of Cornelia's own scientifically developed skincare-product lines ($28 to 150). 663 Fifth Ave. btw. 52nd & 53rd Sts., 8th flr., 212-871-3050; www.cornelia.com (This article originally appeared in the 1/06 issue of Manhattan Living.)

For over a thousand years, the communal experience of the Slavic banya (bath) has been as integral a part of Russian life as vodka and limitless sheets of snow. The recently opened Okeanos combines the traditional aspects of this weekly (at least) ritual with a modern setting and amenities -- suffice it to say, you can leave behind any thoughts of whalesongs and cucumber juice. An appointment begins with a visit to the banya, a powerful, 170-degree sauna, the intensity of which is mitigated by intermittent trips to the shower for the bite of an invigorating cold rinse, and capped off by the energizing platza, a gentle brushing with bundled birch leaves against the primed flesh. The entire sybaritic experience is topped off with a Russian sports massage so tranquilizing someone may have to shovel you back onto the sidewalk. We suggest getting together with a small group of friends and spending the better part of the day going in and out of the banya, relaxing in the lounge (Okeanos is wired for wi-fi use), getting a facial (Molton Brown offers treatments), a haircut, or trying any of the spa's other self-indulgent offerings. Caviar king Petrossian is in charge of the menu (we supped on smoked salmon blini and strawberry tarts), and the bar is stocked with ZYR Russian vodka and Heidsieck & C° Monopole Champagne. With the strong possibility of a long winter ahead, Okeanos will revitalize any man -- Russian or otherwise -- worn weary by even the hint of frosty months to come. 211 E. 51st St. near Third Ave., 212-223-6773; www.okeanosclubspa.com (This article originally appeared in the 1/06 issue of Manhattan Living.)

If last night's rain didn't cool you off enough, you'll be able to lower your internal thermostat and escape the pervasiveness of the week's heat tonight, and any Thursday this summer, at the Okeanos Club Spa at 211 E. 52nd St.  (212-223-6773).  For the rest of the summer, through the end of August, Thursday nights are free jazz nights.  The spa/club has a small lounge area where clients can relax between treatments and enjoy complimentary Baltika Russian Beer (the top-seller in the Motherland) and "fashionable" Zyr vodka -- although we suspect that ANY vodka is a top-seller in the Motherland, this one is a very trendy one here in the States. Petrossian is even supplying free hors d'oeuvres, although we rather doubt that they will be springing for the Royal Special Reserve Persicus that is $9,800 for 1,000 grams.

We somehow skipped writing all the stories we wanted to do on spring cleaning (we’ll get to a few of them still; we’ll just have to call them "summer cleaning"), but vowed to at least write up the new Dyson canister vacuum, which we test-drove recently.  (It sure sucked up all that Golden Retriever dog fur lurking around the old homestead, so we’re happy!)  We do, however, have a better Dyson product here to tout -- the Airblade Hand Dryer -- although, we hasten to add, this is assuredly not for anyone.

We think you have to have a major mansion, with a basement family level -- outfitted with a pool, spa, home-entertainment center/movie theater, billiard room, wine-tasting facility, wet bar, and game room, and Lord-only-knows-what-else -- and you have to use it a lot and have a lot of guests over who use it a lot.  Mirabile dictu!  We don’t have that kind of set-up in our less-than-a-thousand-square-foot domicile, but the mansions of the Antares Company in Greenwich, Connecticut (which we recently toured) sure do…so whoever buys those properties up there in Taconic Estates, listen up! (Also, for the record, these Airblade Hand Dryers are in the AMC movie theaters on 42nd Street near Eighth Avenue…go check them out if you’re going to take in a flick over the long holiday week/weekend.)

So we’re writing these Airblade Dryers up because we think they’re cool. They dry hands faster than you can say, “Evaporate the water, Sesame.”  And, they’re hygienic.  No more sort-of dry hands, with damp spots underneath your rings.  No more using your elbow to press the knob on the wall dryer to avoid getting germs.

The way it works: You put your hands into the dryer well and they are instantly surrounded by gushing power streams of hot air, coming at you at 400 mph. The air is funneled through slits no thicker than an eyelash, so the resulting hot air streams are like having invisible windshield wipers removing the moisture from your hands, drying them in 12 seconds! Of course, this nifty little gizmo is a little pricey ($1,400), but then again, as we said, it’s not for everyone, and it’s hardly an apartment must-have.  But, nice to know it’s around…definitely the cutting edge.

So, today kicks off Portuguese Weekend -- that is to say, we expect to write about the island of Madeira and the amazing Reid’s Palace Hotel over the next several days -- and we thought a good appetizer would be an introduction (for those of you who do not know them) to the emollient-rich, sinfully creamy, headily fragrant soaps of Claus Porto -- obviously made in Portugal, and obviously admired adjectivally by us. You’ve probably seen them at Saks and better specialty shops, but may not have been able to associate the name with their whimsical packaging.  Not only are they dee-vine inside, but they’re memorable for their packaging, which looks like an explosion in a fireworks factory. The designs and graphics are original -- i.e., what was used in the first half of the 20th century -- and every bar is cloaked in distinctively different eye-popping, vivid wrappers. 

The company is 117 years old and was founded (not coincidentally in Porto) by two chemists who were (company literature declares) world-renowned at the time, and, not surprisingly, one of them had a “Claus” in his name. Today, the firm is still family-owned and churning out the soaps the same way great-grandpa did yesteryear.

O.K., about the soaps: They are milled seven times (that means that all the ingredients are basically thrown into the soap-making equivalent of a Cuisinart -- or I guess we should say a Mixmaster, given the years we’re discussing here, and considering the company is still using many of its very old machines),  and then the ingredients are creamed, like you cream butter in that Mixmaster to make a nice layer cake.  The more the ingredients are milled, the more air is removed from them, with the result being a creamier soap that eagerly retains fragrance and doesn’t crack and split with age...and that’s good, because the largest sizes are so grand, they’ll last you a month.  Hence, they’re worth every penny of the $14 they cost for a 12.3-ounce bar. They come in “flavors” that span the alphabet, as diverse as “Almond” and “Acacia Tuberose” to “Vetyver” and “Vanilla.”  There are also boxes of three smaller-size soaps for $22.  But the item we love best, our absolute favorito, is the colossal holiday sampler -- a dozen soaps for the entire calendar -- for $85.  Find them all in Portugal, or at www.lafcony.com; it’s decidedly more fun to go to Portugal, but easier and cheaper to click on a URL.