Buxton Crescent Health Spa review: ‘An experience worthy of its grand past’
Just a few hours from London, this opulent retreat makes a convert of even the most spa-averse, as Attitude's Dale Fox discovers
By Dale Fox
I’ve never been much of a spa person. The idea of lying still while someone kneads at me like a lump of dough always feels counterproductive – my mind races, my muscles resist. But as I sink into my treatment at the Buxton Crescent Health Spa, something shifts. Maybe it’s the grandeur of this magnificent Georgian crescent, or maybe it’s the Buxton mineral waters, flowing through the spa’s pools as they have for centuries. Either way, I feel something I rarely do: I start to relax.
Tucked in the heart of Buxton, the historic Peak District town close to Manchester best known for its bottled spring water, this 18th-century spa retreat feels like a portal to another era. Once a playground for the aristocracy, the Crescent has been lovingly restored to its former glory, with imposing architecture, opulent interiors, and a spa experience worthy of its grand past.
I opt for the Therapeutic Thermal Mud Pack, a treatment using mineral-rich mud from Lake Hévíz, Hungary. Heated to 40 degrees, it’s designed to ease aching joints and melt away tension. My therapist, Joanna, smooths the warm, velvety mud across my legs, arms, shoulders, and back, then wraps me in a towel, cocooning me in its heat. If that sounds suffocating, it isn’t – quite the opposite. As warmth seeps into my muscles, my usual resistance fades. Then comes the head massage, slow and deliberate, sending relaxation through me like air hissing from a punctured tyre.
I lie there, perfectly still, as the mud works its magic. For once, I don’t want to check my phone; I don’t count the minutes. I just exist – something I rarely do. Bliss.
Eventually, it’s time to wash off, though this is where things get tricky. The mud clings stubbornly to my skin, refusing to budge. As I emerge into the communal area, I notice a few odd glances from other guests – it seems I’m still wearing remnants of Hungary.
But Buxton Crescent’s spa is about more than just the treatments. I float effortlessly in the stunning thermal pool, its 1924 tiles glistening beneath a stained-glass ceiling that floods the space with soft, coloured light. A bio sauna hums nearby, offering a more meditative heat, while the salt cave invites deep, cleansing breaths of mineral-rich air. For those seeking serious detoxification, the infrared sauna delivers deep-penetrating warmth, and for the bold, there’s even an ice fountain for a bracing cooldown.
But nothing compares to the rooftop pool. As I sink into the naturally heated Buxton spring waters, a light drizzle starts to fall. The contrast is almost cinematic – steam rising from the surface, the cold rain making the warmth even more indulgent. For once, the British weather actually enhances the experience.
As I finally step out of the water, skin still tingling from the heat, I realise something: I get it now. The appeal of spas, the rituals of self-care, the rare pleasure of slowing down. As I leave the grandeur of the Crescent behind me, I carry that feeling forward – unhurried, unrushed, and for once, completely at ease.
This feature appears in issue 364 of Attitude magazine which is available to order here, and alongside 15 years of back issues on the free Attitude app.
