Holiday Cleaning... Well, kind of...

So, this is a tale that has been making the rounds at various family gatherings: Sometimes it takes place in Vienna, sometimes in Baghdad, and occasionally in Ankara. The setting is not as much important as the emotions attached to it. As the story goes, on a gray (substitute city name) day, my mom apparently had a terrible cold, so she decided to place me in front of TV so that she can take a nap. With all her trust in me, she curled under her covers in bed. What probably felt like a short while, must've been longer than she had intended, because when she woke up, the scene could've been from a Tarantino movie: Me, sitting in front of her white lacquer vanity, with her Mary Q eyeshadows all over my eyelids, her Lancome mascara smeared across my eyelashes, her Chanel lipsticks across my cheeks, and her prized Dior blush across my forehead and other various spots across the room... The air infused with L'air du Temps... To put all this in context, these were the times when my parents were at the start of their careers, so whatever money or possession they had was more precious than ever. And there I was, standing in front of my mother's vanity and wasting away...

I often think of this story during the holidays, especially at the end of a year. It becomes more 'real' when the credit card company sends my entire year's purchases in one annual statement broken down into categories. And every year, I make a promise to myself not to waste money on items-du-jour, and start believing in investing in 'classics' that will last forever (although the word "forever" can be a relative term). This, to me, feels like holiday cleaning of the wallet, the closet, the cabinet and the soul.

So, my holiday cleaning started early December. Inspired by a New York Times article "Sans Makeup, S'il Vous Plait (May 25, 2006), I headed directly to my local mecca, the Westchester. I started off with a eggnog latte from 4-bucks (ode to my friends who insist that everything costs at least $4 at Starbucks!) and equipped with a slice of marble pound loaf, I went straight to the Yves Saint Laurent counter at Nordstrom's. I invested in a Touche Eclat- a great all-around highlighter for the eyes, right underneath eyebrows, sides of the nose, and around lips. Apparently, one of the greatest signs of ageing can be seen around your lips as they get darker with age. Who knew? Well, now that was taken care of, I rushed over to the adjacent Armani counter in search of eyeshadows no. 36 and 10. They were waiting for me right there- hooray! Slightly peeking at the price tags, just as unbelievable as the Jets having a shot at Superbowl, I thanked the lovely salesperson, and walked out. Ick! $24 x 2 + tax for a pair of tiny eyeshadows?? I guess some things may remain as classics and admired from afar.

In search of Laura Mercier's tinted moisturizer and (now needs to be replaced) Armani-esque eyeshadows, I headed over to Sephora- where quality of service and quantity of shoppers always vary with no statistical support. I always get extremely distracted there: I somehow find myself sniffing Jessica Simpson's (short-lived) whipped body cream, or using Stila lip plumpers, or anything that's not directly related to my purpose. I guess that's the point, right? Anyway... Frustrated by not being able to locate the Laura Mercier products, I left the store with Benefit's Georgia powder (for that overall peach-y sheen), Smashbox's Strobe eyelighters (notice the marketing word- eyelighters, aka. eyeshadow with slight tint of highlighters. Very spork-like!), and Nars Deep Throat blush (who named this one- Robin Byrd!?!?).

I thought of going back into Nordstrom's but a little voice whispered to me that I needed to head over to Costco to get some shrimp for the company we were having later that day. After all, I promised hubby that I would take care of that. "You, you," the voice echoed sounding awfully like Robert DeNiro in the movie "Analyze This" or was it "Analyze That"? I get confused. It was my hubby disguised in that little voice, "get over to Costco!"

Costco, a place of great wonders, and sometimes, treasures. Potentially dangerous. Last year, when I went in to get some meatballs, I came out with three two-ply cashmere sweaters. Who would've thought?? And, the year before, I got a bargain on a winter coat with the fur trim and all. Hmm, maybe there is a pattern?

I headed straight over to the back where the seafood resides. Well... I did take a slight detour by the beauty aisles. As my eyes darted quickly across Elizabeth Arden creams, Nexus shampoos, and then I saw it. It came in a box in a hard-plastic cover. In bold letters, it screamed at me: "Bare Escentuals- seven piece everyday eye collection." I remember you! I remembered you from a conversation I had in Montreal with a cousin of a friend who works for a dermatologist. Her makeup was so incredibly amazing that at the end of our stay, I had to ask her what she used. Very graciously, she said she only used mineral-based products. I remember making a mental note that I would try you. "Duh, Esra! Remember me?" said the box! (Yes, I do have conversation not only when driving with drivers in other cars, but also, at stores with products!) Match made in heaven. With a price tag of a little over $30 bucks, this was my Armani!

With a shrimp tray and my brand-new essential eye collection, I came home. I popped the shrimp in the fridge and the 60-minute disc that came with my eye makeup in the DVD player. I emptied my makeup case of all the old stuff. Feeling rather triumphant and cleansed of old mistakes, I settled down with my cup of Earl Grey with milk & honey...

Tory Burch in Greenwich

It was one of those Sunday mornings when hubby was at the Jets game that I ended up doing laundry all by myself. I dread doing laundry- I'd almost prefer doing, umm..., anything else!

So, on that day, I came across Town & Country's January issue with Tory Burch on the cover. I love Tory! This was definitely a sign: me doing laundry and coming across her cover. Well, a sign for what I still don't know but it made me happy nonetheless.

I love Tory for many reasons: She's an entrepreneur who found her niche among the many in the field. She knows how to do her PR and has a good sense of who her clientele is. Her work is stylish- perhaps, at times a little logo-heavy. Her tunics are summer staples. Her dresses fit well and shirts are simple, easy pieces. And despite all these successes, she gives the aura that she's a down-to-earth mother who appreciates all things well-made. Well, that speaks to me.

In the article, she mentions that she created her stores to resemble someone's home, so that you don't have that "I'm entering a store" feeling. Oh, I thought to myself, that's how it kind of felt like when I went to her store in Greenwich!

Her store is definitely plush- decorated with warm colors and textiles; it certainly has a luxurious feeling. Clothes are laid out on racks- not so far apart a la comme des garcons- close to each other, you can feel one fabric after another, quite easy on your eyes.

I went through the racks of clothes- all appealing. Of course, because her pieces are classics and because I am a lover of valuable bargains, I headed over to the lonely sales rack all the way at the back of the store, positioned like that solitary table all the way back by the kitchen. I fingered through the rack and the price tags. Not too shabby.

But I had a different mission. I was determined to locate a pair of her black quilted patent leather flats. I looked through the shoes and found a shiny gold pair. With one in my hand, I smiled at the sales person and asked if they had it in black. She was terribly sorry that they were completely sold-out. I asked if we could order from another store and/or from her website. Oh, she said, that was impossible, they were all sold-out. We exchanged smiles. I wonder if she was thinking that I did not know the meaning of "sold-out." I checked in with myself- of course, I was not a repeat client and certainly, this was my first time in this store; she did not know me, or my determination. But that initial feeling of plushness was escaping me in bits.

So, I raised my left eyebrow (something I naturally do when I am inching towards getting irritated), and with my plastered smile, asked her if I can at least try on the shiny gold pair for size. I heard a tiny sigh and she said sure. You bet! As I was waiting for my trial pair, another customer and I started chatting about the different pairs of leopard-print shoes she was trying. They looked adorable on her skinny feet- but naturally, they didn't have her size. Huh. Same story as I got minutes before: it was all sold-out!

Oh, my right eyebrow was about to go up but then I took the better road and whispered to her that I saw the same pair online, so she might want to check it out. Oh, she said looking pleased, she whispered back her thanks and said she'd try doing that.

I took my time trying on the shoes for size- oh, the size 6 was a bit too tight but 6.5 roomy. So, stared at my feet for a bit. Walked around, sat down, crossed my legs,... After deciding on my size, I gave my thanks to the salesperson, smiled and left. Not to ever come back?

In her article, Tory had it right. She aimed to create an atmosphere that left you feeling luxurious. It did in part. Perhaps, in Greenwich, that luxurious feeling was more closely associated with the store itself, and not the salespeople.

Bottom line: I got my shoes in my exact size from plaza too's website, ordered from the comfort of my home while sipping my Earl Grey with honey and milk. Their customer service representative, Michelle, was extremely helpful.

Now, how's that for luxury?

Spa Services in Westchester

I love nail salons. I love spas. And I am sure we all recognize the difference, but most often, the lines can be blurry.

In my mind, I always equated spas to boyfriends: First, there is always a list of them. You can pick and choose depending on your mood (and need for services). If you are happy with one, then you are in a blissful state of mind. If you are not happy with your current one, you simply move on to the next. No hard feelings? Well, often times, break-ups can be painful, you never know how the next spa is going to treat you or you don't know how good you had it. Bowing your head and swallowing your pride, you can always go back for one more. But as my grandmother always says, things happen for a good reason; you may not recognize it at first.

So, my local spa history started with Elizabeth Arden Red Door Spa at the Westchester. I was used to frequenting the 5th Avenue location, so familiar products, same gracious service, and delicious teas and coffees offered in a plush setting were all I thought I needed. Just as I was getting comfortable, my "treatment lady" left. I was heartbroken.

Then began my treks back into the City to my original digs. When I had half a day to spend, I would hop on the train, usually at an off-peak time. 45 minutes (and an all-aggravating eavesdropping on a seatmate's phone conversation) later rushing to the 4 or the 5, I would get to Union Square to Jeniette Day Spa to Jennie's welcoming hands. It wasn't until I started working in the Flatiron District that I found this incredible spot- professionalism and amazing service at great values! I wish they were just closer...

On the other hand, Mario Badescu's location worked fairly well for my treks from GCT, but I've come to realize that I love its products more than the experience at the spa. Just a matter of preference.

If I planned to meet my hubby for apres-work drinks, I would head over the J. Sisters in midtown, and in a jiffy, feel like a freshly plucked chicken! I always admire the speediness of this place, but most often felt that I was just a credit card.

Same with Bliss. When it first opened up, after devouring articles over Marcia Kilgore's genius move into the business, I was probably one of their first customers. Eagerly, I embraced and loved Bliss. I still do. But over a period of year or two, I changed about 4-5 "treatment ladies" because they had left- to go somewhere else or retire? Some called to invite to their new spa du-jour. I don't know, I liked them at Bliss. Sometimes I wonder if I could've had a different relationship with Bliss...

Another one of my heartaches came from The Spa at the Chelsea Piers. This time, it was not the changing staff, but rather a brutal MetroNorth-subway-bus trip to the West Side. When my hubby played at the Chelsea Skating Rink, we'd make a date out of it, but alas, even he has moved on.

I was thinking of trying out Oasis Day Spa but after redeeming our Valentine's Day couple's massage gift certificate, I did not feel warm and fuzzy about the location. It seemed too close to going to work rather than going to get pampered.

All this traveling was getting to me. So, I went online to SpaFinder to locate some place closer. Hence, my encounter with Completely Bare in Scarsdale. Located smack in the middle of the village of Scarsdale, I found this place cozy and welcoming but too pricey. And did I really want to be embellished with Swarowski crystals after a bikini wax? Hmmm, not me.

I then headed over to Mamaroneck to Bodicures. Located in what reminded me of a Nantucket cottage, this place had all the little touches that made you feel you were home. But alas, this was not my home. After a pleasant but long treatment, I was tempted to go to Sherwood's and eat my sorrows in form of ribs.

My search then led me over to Tranquility Spa. Before they moved into their current location, the spa was located on a second floor of a building that also housed a furniture retailer. Ambiance-wise, a big minus. I was terribly late to my appointment, but the gracious lady at the reception told me it was all ok and that they'd take me in shortly. And they did. I forgot all about the furniture retailer downstairs. A chatty young girl assisted me to the treatment room- I thought I was in a Jack Nicholson movie, what was the name? She continued talking about her recent certificate from the NY School of Esthetics, and her boyfriend, and her cat,... I just had about enough. And I remembered: The Shining- that was the movie! My sister-in-law just gave me a gift certificate to the new location- I think I am going to give the new location a try.

Too many bruises on the body, ego and wallet, I bowed my head and went back to the Red Door Spa for one more try. For now, I feel like I hit the jackpot! Michelle is just wonderful- bubbly and welcoming, and they just added a few new coffee flavors in their waiting lounge...

With that said, my cheating heart so afraid of being broken again, I am compiling a new list of spas that I might want to try:

• Shine Salon & Spa in Ossining
• Park Avenue Medical Spa in Armonk
• ...

Who is behind Suddenly in the Burbs?

Esra is a self-proclaimed "city girl" with love of nature, "a go-to person" for restaurant recommendations, lover of anything "new and luxurious", and worshipper of "spas and all related pampering services." Brought up in cities around the world, she claims New York City home, one city where she lived the longest.

In 2002, she was uprooted from her airy Brooklyn Heights brownstone, and planted in a cozy suburban spot just outside of New York City. After many sleepless nights (more like months), she started appreciating all the new adventures her new surroundings offered her. Starting with early self-taught lessons like "How to get a spot at the Westchester on a weekend" to "Where can I find a spa that's not a nail salon", Esra began searching for the best in her new home.

Esra earned a Bachelor's degree in Business Management and Marketing from Cornell, and had a string of glamorous jobs in marketing and business development in New York City. She is currently a teacher, a calling that came later to her in life.

She founded Suddenly in the Burbs as a way to share her love of sharing the newest and the best she found locally. With a global mind and a local heart, Esra is looking forward your comments and feedback.