An asterisk (*) at the end of the listing indicates that it's a good place to bring children (my children, anyway, what do I know?)

Orchard Corset Center
157 Orchard St, 212-674-0786.
If your girls swing low, the three of you should go on a date with the no-nonsense staff of Orchard Corset Center. They'll size you up with a glance, rummage around in the bins behind the counter, then herd you into the stock room with a couple of frumpy-looking bras (don't forget to introduce yourself to the topless old lady with a thick Russian accent as you squeeze by). A couple of minutes later, one of the experts will be back to yank on your straps, criticize your hook choice, and show you how to adjust your nipples so both headlights are trained on the road. Truly one of the most womanly experiences in New York City. I can't wait until Inky is developed enough to go.

Make Up Mania.com
182 Allen St, 212-533-5900
I'm too lazy and inconsistent to wear make-up, but I do have a nose-to-the-window fondness for this place, possibly because it looks like every day is the Mermaid Parade there. I do have a goal of wearing false eyelashes before I die. Why shouldn't they be four inches long and tipped in glitter?

Le Chandelier Hair Salon
264 5th Ave, Brooklyn, 718 783-2457
I say banana oil to those kids' salons where you have to wade through a toy store in order to reach the race car where the little hairball will be seated for the duration, gaping at a video so the stylist won't have to interact with him too much as she gives him a John-John. The two haircuts Milo's had in young life (not counting the chunk Cousin Ben-Ben hacked off in the backseat of their minivan recently) have been entirely pleasant and outside the little-boy-cut-mold, thanks to the unpretentious young women who put him up on pillows so he'll be able to watch the transformation in one of their thrift shop mirrors. A bargain at twenty bucks (esp. since I'm not getting hornswoggled into buying a toy on the way out.)

Spa 88
88 Fulton St, 212-766-8600
Don't forget to bring your own flip-flops or you'll be wearing creepy rubber loaners (along with your stretched-out swimming costume) into the hottest Turkish sauna in town. Try not to scream as you plunge into the Arctic dunk-tank-like "cold pool." If you enjoy the oak leaf platza, you can buy a bundle at the reception desk to spank yourself raw in the privacy of your own soon-to-be-clogged-with-mulch-n'-skin-scraps shower.
* (kids are welcome at half price, but unless they're old enough to give thermal consent, you'll probably find yourself spending the whole time in the swimming pool, staring at signs warning you not to defecate or expel your nasal contents)

MAC
113 Spring St (btwn Greene and Mercer), 212-334-4641
On the advice of friends ranging from Little MoMo to Bee Lavender, I finally upgraded my $1 red lipstick with a tube of MAC's long-lasting version ... which sort of looks like one of those little Bullet vibes Toys In Babeland used to put in the goody bags every time BUST magazine threw one of their shindigs. RuPaul is a loyal customer ...

The Aveda Institute
233 Spring St, 212-807-1492
I didn't learn my lesson when a matronly beauty school trainee in some two-bit joint on Howard St, irritated with the boisterous Friday afternoon spirits of her much younger classmates announced, "We'll take care of that ugly hippie hair" and whacked nearly a foot's worth of the hard-grown tresses I'd asked her to trim. Thankfully, the Aveda Institute offered a much mellower experience and if not exactly rock-bottom, close enough! Hour long facials for forty-five bucks in shower-curtained cubicles and haircuts in a big communal room for fifteen. Takes me back to my indentured servitude at The Chicago School of Massage Therapy.

Yi-Pak
10 W 32nd St, 212-594-1025
Sorry, boys, there's a reason this one's ladies only. Namely, the under-garmented attendants who administer the body-scrubs with economy brand soaps and baby oil in a communal treatment room will swing your legs around like joysticks, unconcerned with any modesty you may have neglected to leave with your clothes in the no-frills lobby changing area. (One hundred dollar. You pay me now.) A friend I brought along once, the mother of three children under the age of 5, commented that having a body scrub (sauna, steambath, cucumber face pack) at Yi-Pak is like being a baby again, washed by grandma. After a couple of hours, you can slither down the street for some mandoo, feeling as sweet and fresh as any guileless little crawler.

Area
281 Smith St, Brooklyn, 718-624-3157
This is your semi-retired massage therapist speaking. You will get a skilled, informed practitioner if you sign up for a treatment in this Brooklyn yoga studio that offers skin care and massage. Treatments are in a pleasantly Pottery Barn brownstone apartment across the street, where you can groove on the pastoral noises of the neighbors' back yards. I also liked that they don't charge extra for using hot stones and there was no mystique about the process: they just chuck 'em in a crockpot and blot 'em on a folded towel before tucking them in like geological hot water bottles.

Sephora SoHo
555 Broadway. 212-625-1309
Other than the occasional bottle of purple nail polish for Her Royal Heinie, I hadn't bought any cosmetics since Greg and I got hitched in 1995. With the Tonys fast approaching, I slunk in here on Little MoMo's recommendation and selected the oldest, least girlie sales associate to spackle me up with product. Other customers who don't share my fear of make-up can go hog wild sampling from thousands of little tubes and compacts - stay all day! No one will bug you.