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West Virginia
The Greenbrier resort is as old-school as they come From the March 26, 2001 Issue of New York 
You can have your hot-rock
treatments and your newfangled pilates, but sometimes there's no substitute
for the real thing. For decades, the wizened spa professionals at
the Greenbrier resort, in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, have
been sandblasting potentates and old-world society pooh-bahs with
a nozzle contraption called a Scotch Spray. If you don't feel like
getting violently hosed, then just loll in the soothing, naturally
calibrated spring waters over which the hotel was built. Afterward,
take falconry lessons on the grounds, or play a round of croquet.
The Greenbrier, which perfected its own brand of assembly-line opulence
before Las Vegas was on the map, runs through 1,249,500 cocktail napkins
per year and 215,400 bars of soap. Until 1992, when its cover was
blown, the resort's fabulist baroque interior, by designer Dorothy
Draper, helped disguise an entrance to a vast fallout shelter designed
to house the entire U.S. Congress. After a midday tea, or even a cocktail
or two, you can go ogle the congressmen's decontamination showers,
among other nostalgic Cold War relics.-- ADAM PLATT |
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