December 31, 2025 |
London was loud that morning – a low-level hum of pounding impatience clung to my body like static. By the time I arrived at the Bvlgari Spa in Knightsbridge, which has been open since 2012, I wanted nothing more than silence. The Bvlgari Hotel is one of those places that appears to have discovered an exact formula for calm: polished marble, warm lighting and that particular scent of serenity. Buried beneath street level, the spa stretches out almost secretly. It’s part Italian modernism, part sanctuary.
I had come for something called the Zerobody Dry Float, a treatment that I was promised would separate body from mind. I was guided through to a private room and invited to lie down on what looked like a firm wooden board, which was slightly unconvincing in its promise of comfort. But once the headphones were on and the eye pillow was settled over me, the board came alive. Warm water began to rise from underneath, moving in gentle waves until my body was suspended just above its surface. The feeling was unexpected, a strange sort of buoyancy without wetness, like being held by invisible hands.
The Bvlgari Spa relaxation room with daybeds for post treatment rejuvenation
The concept behind it is rooted in floatation therapy, but here it’s refined, a dry alternative to the traditional and oh- so-trendy salt-water pod. The science is relatively simple: by reducing pressure points and eliminating sensory interference, the nervous system slips into its parasympathetic state, the one responsible for rest and repair. Your blood pressure drops, muscles release their grip and the brain begins to slow. Bvlgari’s own description of the experience refers to it as an “immersive anti-gravity sensation”, a claim that proves rather accurate once you’re in it. The water beneath the surface moves in rhythm with your breath, blurring the boundaries between the physical and the imagined. Somewhere between the soft guidance of the recorded voice in my headphones reminding me to focus on my breathing and the undulating motion beneath me, the usual chatter of thought dimmed to a faint whisper.
The Bvlgari Spa Zerobody Dry Float – a 60-minute treatment promising to separate body from mind with its “immersive anti-gravity sensation”
When it ended, I opened my eyes with that curious sensation that time had folded in on itself – not quite sleep, not quite wakefulness. I emerged from the float to find my therapist, Nicole, gazing at me with a knowing smile, the kind that suggested she’d seen my half-dazed, totally absent-minded look before. Next was a lymphatic drainage massage, a gentle treatment that, while less otherworldly, was deeply grounding in its own way. Nicole explained that the technique follows the body’s natural flow, encouraging lymph – an often overlooked fluid that moves through our tissues – to drain. The process is said to help clear metabolic waste, reduce swelling and support the immune system. It’s a system that relies on movement rather than a pump, so the massage can effectively do what modern life, with its sitting at desks all day, tends to hinder.
As she worked, the movements were light but deliberate, almost meditative. She began at the feet, working upwards with soothing, rhythmic pressure. I noticed small sensations: a slight warmth in my ears, a faint ringing, that peculiar lightness that follows proper circulation – all signs the treatment was working.
The Studio at the Bvlgari Spa
When it ended, I was led to the relaxation room, a space that looked to have been designed by someone who understands both architecture and exhalation. There was an electric fire burning softly in the corner, a few people draped elegantly across daybeds, marble side tables supporting, in my case, a small platter of fruit – honeydew melon, cantaloupe, pineapple, berries of all kinds – and a mug of green tea (apparently to continue the effects of the massage). On a sideboard, a neat dispenser of cucumber-lemon-basil water stood beside bowls of apples and the spa’s own protein bars. Everything, from the lighting to the temperature, felt balanced at the level of the nervous system.
The surroundings had that signature Bvlgari duality of modern lines softened by texture. Rope-netted wooden bed frames, tactile wall panels and marble surfaces. It’s elegant but never sterile, as though the designers deftly understood that genuine relaxation requires a touch of imperfection. I sat, sipped my tea and watched the faint flicker of the fire reflect in the polished glass. My body felt looser, almost unmoored, but not in the way that leaves you slack, more in the way that something had been rearranged to make space for stillness.
Later, I wandered through the rest of the spa: the 25-metre pool lined with textured Vicenza stone, the sauna and steam rooms, the gym gleaming quietly behind glass. The place operates as both sanctuary and system, built around the idea of longevity, sleep recovery, detoxification and mental reset. It’s a luxury, of course, but one grounded in a kind of pragmatic science aiming to reduce stress hormones, improve circulation, aid lymphatic flow and support sleep. My results were undeniable; I felt rested, relaxed and revitalised.
The Bvlgari Spa’s 25-metre colonnaded swimming pool, lined with textured Vicenza stone, with its loungers and cabanas
Back above ground, the cacophony of London’s hustle and bustle returned like a tide. But something had shifted. My limbs felt lighter, my head clearer. It wasn’t the ephemeral, post-treatment haze of indulgence, it was subtler than that – a recalibration. The float had done its quiet work on my mind and the massage had fine-tuned the system beneath my skin. The feeling of release was palpable.
There’s an argument to be made that the most luxurious experiences are those that remove rather than add. The Zerobody Float doesn’t fill your senses with sound or scent or sensation – it subtracts. It’s an exercise in absence: no pressure, no noise, no thought. What remains is you, suspended, weightless and, for once, unbothered.
When I think back to that hour I spent on the floatation bed, what I remember is the pulse of water beneath me and the faint hum of the guided meditation.
It was a rhythm that seemed to sync, almost imperceptibly, with my own heartbeat. For a few brief minutes, I wasn’t trying to relax, or be better, or fix anything; that scramble to keep up with city life ceased. I was simply there, in quiet equilibrium. And maybe that was the real luxury of the day – not the Vicenza stone, not the high-tech dry float, not even the fruit platter – but the rare and simple privilege of being able to stop.
Taken from 10+ Issue 8 – FUTURE, JUBILEE, CELEBRATION – out now. Order your copy here.
