Your skin is not a canvas for correction.
It is a vessel of memory.
And in this room, we remember it well.

We begin with breath.
With oil and intention.
With questions only your skin can answer.

Then comes the foam — a cloud that cleanses without violence.
It touches what trauma left behind and says, “Release.”
No scrubs. No sting. No fight. Just clarity.

We press warm herbs into the skin,
not steam — never steam —
and listen for what wants to be let go.

This is not a spa facial.
This is ancestral care.
A ritual for those who remember that melanin was never meant to be muted.

You are not here to be polished.
You are here to be restored.