Lindsey Kelk
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Hot salt love


Hot salt love

Since I got back from NYC I’ve been in a total mardy bitchy bum of a mood.
It’s not just withdrawals, it’s this crappy weather, my general poverty stricken nature and the horrible cold I picked up from GI Jason, my plane compadre on the way back (And, no, he wasn’t even hot. Grump.).

In an attempt to shake it off, I stripped off, stood on my bath mat and grabbed a handful of a gorgeously, gloopy gunk and rubbed it all over me. Nope, I didn’t go for a mudbath at Glastonbury, I had a Hot Salt Scrub from Bliss.

Hey, if I can’t be in New York, I can at least use the hottest products from New York’s hottest spa, right?

This stuff is amazing. Genuinely should come with a ‘dangerous – mind altering yumminess inside’ label. It’s thick, and blue and gets all warm and delicious in your hands and then when you massage it into your dry skin, it gives out the most amazing eucalyptus scent and skin saving oils.
And then when you hop in the shower, it all vanishes!

And you don’t look like the creature that crawled out of the blue algae lagoon, you look like you’ve had a skin transplant with a baby’s bottom!

And it cleared my sinuses.
Get in.


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