The house sits on one of the busiest streets in the neighbourhood. Guests are often surprised by how little of it reaches the treatment rooms. None of that is an accident.
Soft walls, heavy doors
Every treatment room is lined with undyed linen over a layer of wool felt. It softens the echo of a small room and swallows most of the street below.
The doors are solid oak and close on their own. A door left ajar undoes half the work of the walls.
Silence is not the absence of sound. It is the absence of interruption.
A calendar with gaps in it
We never book two treatments back to back in the same room. The fifteen minutes between guests are for airing the room, changing the linen and letting the therapist reset. It costs us bookings and it is the best decision we have made.
Undyed linen on the walls of the second floor, chosen for how it absorbs sound.
Why the music went
We used to play soft music in the waiting room. Guests told us they spent the time trying to place the song. Now there is only the sound of the fountain in the courtyard.
Nobody has asked for the music back.
