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Different Strokes

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Colman Andrews is editor of Saveur magazine

When I get tense and tired, when the everyday stress of life becomes too much to bear, I sometimes repair to a small, dimly lit room where soft music plays and a woman touches my unclothed body in return for money. OK, sometimes it’s even a man.

If I have no hesitation at all in revealing this fact publicly, it is because what I am doing is not only highly therapeutic, both physically and psychologically, but also moral, legal and thoroughly non-sexual. I am, of course, getting a massage. No, I mean a real one. From a legitimate, licensed massage therapist.

Massage does, of course, involve a certain measure of intimacy with another human being--not to mention a certain measure of taking all your clothes off--and this is something not everybody is immediately comfortable with. Almost inevitably, in fact, the first question a masseuse or masseur will ask a new client is “Have you ever had a massage before?” (My standard answer is “Not often enough.”)

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For several years, earlier this decade, I was fortunate enough to be able to enjoy, once or twice a month, the professional ministrations of my friend Mary, a self-employed massage therapist from Venice who is really, really good. When I asked her about Fear of Massage, she replied, “It’s normal that people will get a little embarrassed if it’s their first massage. The question I hear the most is ‘Do I have to take my underwear off?’ I give them the choice, but I do reassure them that the only part of their body that’s ever exposed is the part I’m working on at the time. You want people to be relaxed and comfortable because, if they’re uptight, it makes my job harder, and they’re not satisfied with the results.”

Like other licensed massage therapists in Southern California, Mary had to graduate from massage school, where her studies included physiology and anatomy, and then get a whole lot of licenses. “In New York,” she says, “you only need one, from the state. Here, the state doesn’t regulate massage, so you need a license for most of the cities you want to work in or one from L.A. County. And each city has different rules.”

The art of massage is an ancient one. Human beings must have figured out pretty early that applying soothing strokes to sore or tensed-up muscles made them feel better, and we know that techniques of medicinal massage were formalized in China at least as early as 1400 BC--about the same time as those of acupuncture. About a thousand years later in Greece, Hippocrates, “the father of medicine,” proposed that “a physician must be experienced in many things but most assuredly in rubbing.” So-called Swedish massage--the usual kind, the one that virtually defines massage in the Western world--really does have Swedish origins, being based on therapeutic techniques developed by one Per Henrik Ling, who founded the Royal Institute of Gymnastics in Stockholm in the early 19th century.

When I first started getting massages 25 years ago or so, Swedish massage was mostly all there was, unless you counted shiatsu (a Japanese technique that is basically acupuncture with blunt instruments--i.e., the thumbs and fingers) or Rolfing (which is supposed to be so good for you that it hurts, really hurts). Today, especially at posh resort hotels and spas, the choice has become overwhelming. At the Four Seasons Aviara Resort in Carlsbad, for instance, in addition to such salutary emollients as the Man for All Seasons Facial, the Chamomile Body Scrub and the Spirulina Body Wrap, the spa-goer may enjoy (besides the usual stuff) an aromatherapy massage, a seaweed massage, a sports massage (“Great before or after a day of golf or tennis”), a neck and shoulder massage or a reflexology massage (which treats acupuncture points on the feet supposedly corresponding to various parts of the body--the indirect approach, in other words). And deciding to treat myself to a massage while on vacation at the San Ysidro Ranch in Santa Barbara last summer, I was confronted with a veritable menu of possibilities--including Swedish, shiatsu, sports and reflexology, but also Esalen (to bring “the body into harmony with the environment”), deep tissue (“to release and lengthen those deep and forgotten muscles”), and “The Ultimate” massage (in which “pure essential oils of flowers soothe the skin as well as lift the spirit!”), prenatal and mother-and-baby massages, and massages for both children and, yes, pets. There were also five different “Ayurvedic” treatments, said to be based on techniques developed 5,000 years ago in India and involving both massage and various applications of oils and herbs. In one of these, “An exotic blend of Ayurvedic herbs is applied to the body, allowing the essence to penetrate the skin . . . Warm oil is then dripped over the herbs and rubbed over the body creating an exfoliating effect . . .” Hey, all I wanted was a back rub.

(If a ritzy spa vacation isn’t in your plans, two agencies--Basic Knead in L.A., New York City and Boston, and Healing Hands, with branches in L.A., New York City, Miami and Palm Beach--offer the chance to order a choice of a dozen or so different massage treatments by phone; licensed massage therapists will come to your home or office. The California chapter of the American Massage Therapy Assn. can also refer you to a massage therapist in your area.)

“It used to be,” says my masseuse friend Mary, “that the only variation in a massage was how deep or hard the pressure would be. Now, every once in a while, I think, ‘Oh, my God, I’m becoming a dinosaur in my industry.’ But I’ve been doing this for 15 years and have had some clients for 10. Sometimes I’m afraid that they’ll get a little bored, but they always seem to like what I do.”

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