Fictionary is a column showcasing beauty-related words that don’t exist, but should.


Happy Monday, friends! As you know, I’m a Barre-bie, i.e., a rabid fan of the barre method. And while I’m a Core Fusion devotee, I decided to test out a free sesh courtesy of my gal Dina at The Bar Method in Soho.  The first thing that struck me as I walked into the immaculate minimalist space? It’s much more luxe than the digs at Physique 57 and Core Fusion (perhaps not the pimped-out Central Park South Exhale Spa location, but definitely the others).  The Bar Method’s snazzy digs, which include a waiting area with magazines, lockers for your stuff and a luxurious locker room could certainly be hailed a Barre-bie Dream House.  For the full The Bar Method review, read on… 



The class itself was good, a lot more like Physique 57 to me than Core Fusion. My instructor Amanda was really nice and definitely paid special attention to me, as it was my first class. I felt that the class was a bit more of a lengthening experience than a toning one, thanks to fewer reps and more varied positions. The pristine studio boasts a beautiful white rug and polar air conditioning. 


But heed this warning, friends. Much like in your high school French class, there’s NO GUM ALLOWED. They are utterly serious about this. This was difficult for me. Gum is my life. I’m always chewing gum–Orbit Peppermint, in fact. I carry two packs when I start running low (low = fewer than 5 sticks) because you know how you always have to share and heaven forbid I run out when I happen to be a table of four gals who are always interested in YOUR GUM but never feel the need to carry it on them, despite the fact that they want a piece of yours every time you bust it out and for me, that’s approximately 5-10 times a day. Anyway, I didn’t heed the warning that gum isn’t allowed–which I also didn’t in high school French class, BT dubs. I’ll only live without gum if I get caught. Well, Amanda caught me and brought over a tissue mid-class and asked me to spit it out. She said it was because they want to ensure no one chokes in the class (fair enough) but I have a sneaking suspish it was more about making sure heathens don’t stick it in the rug or have it fall out by accident during a set of push-ups.  I’m onto you, Bar Method. P.S. The quintessential French teacher for me is the one who was super-annoying in 1991’s If Looks Could Kill, a moment of cinematic genius featuring Richard Grieco. Behold, the trailer: