Collection: Bathorium

A veritable apothecary

As she walked Greg through the home, his eyes fell on the bathroom—and the antique clawfoot tub within it. Beside the tub: Shelves upon shelves of essentials oils, salts, clays and botanicals in jars and canvas bags with brass scoops. The nonna asked him if he’d like her to draw him a bath.

Why yes, he said. He would.

The bath that started it all

Spoiler alert: That nonna knew how to draw a bath. She scooped coconut crème and shaved raw cocoa butter, flecked lemongrass, lavender and orange blossom oils, scattered dead sea salt and clays, and poured a freshly-brewed pot of black tea into the water. Yes, tea.

Bringing Italy home

As he sank into that clawfoot tub, cloaked by the milky water, senses immersed, Greg’s sunburns—a souvenir from Greece—soothed. His skin softened. His muscles melted. He knew this was a bath worthy of retelling—a bath he had to bring back to North America. And so, he did.

The beginning of Bathorium

A bartender / baker when he stepped into that clawfoot tub, Greg emerged (reluctantly—or he would still be in there) a Bathologist. Back home, he began experimenting in the kitchen again, sub cocktails and breads with a bath bomb that would take him—and you—back to that day in Positano, again and again.