Bath Time With... is a new series from 39BC. We visit the bathrooms of our muses and friends — and find that a private space has a way of unlocking a uniquely intimate conversation about routines, rituals, and the objects they can't live without.

First up: Isabella Burley, London-based founder of Climax Books as well as her Substack of the same name.

My first memory of the bath probably isn’t a fabulous one.

I remember my mum washing her hair over the back of the bath with a hose thing. It always looked so uncomfortable and awkward. It never felt luxurious. It felt utilitarian, cold, uncomfortable.

So my first memories of the bath were of it being this awkward object, rather than the joy that a bath is to me now.

I grew up in South London. I remember our bathroom always being warm because there was a boiler in there, and a towel cupboard. But it was small. There was always so much stuff out, and the cupboard under the sink was just full of stuff. Now bathing is one of the things I look forward to most.

Honestly, I feel like my entire personality is based on my bathtub.

It takes a really long time to fill up, so there’s this whole ritual of running it and waiting. Then, as soon as I forget about it because I’m doing something else, it’s too hot or too cold or whatever. But getting in is amazing.

With Japanese tubs, you can sit upright and be immersed in water. In a traditional English bath, you’re sort of sunken backwards. But in a Japanese tub, you’re quite upright, even though there’s a backrest, which is so extra but so amazing.

My mind goes a thousand miles an hour, and being physically immersed in water switches my mindset.

Even if it’s only for a few seconds. Even if I then end up scrolling on my phone for the whole bath.

As a kid, we would go with my mum and my uncle to thermal baths.

Before I had this bath, bathing wasn’t really part of my life at home. But my mum is German — she’s from the Black Forest — and in Germany, and places like Sweden, there’s such a culture around wellness and bathing. It’s also very normalised. It’s not expensive. It’s for everyone.

There would be steam, sauna, warm pools, cold pools. It almost felt medical in a weird way.

I have one really magical memory of being in warm water, and then you could swim through to the outside, and it was snowing. You’d go into the cold plunge pools or lie in the snow and then come back into the warm water. I remember the snow prickling your skin while you were in this warm thing.

That really stayed with me.

It was completely normal in Germany. Families would go to the thermal baths on the weekend, and then you’d eat there. There would be a canteen and I remember having hot dogs and French fries at the thermal spa. It wasn’t luxury. It was probably a ten-euro day pass.

So it does and doesn’t surprise me that bathing culture has become so popular now.

It makes sense because people really care about slowing down and taking care of themselves.

My boyfriend in New York goes every Sunday without fail to Great Jones Spa or Lore. Once it becomes part of someone’s ritual, it becomes this joyful thing.

And New York is exactly the place where bath culture would explode, because they need it the most. Everyone is so stressed, so overworked, and it gets freezing in the winter. You just want to warm up.

I also think bath culture is a thing in the UK. A lot of apartments in New York don’t have baths, or if they do, they’re so shallow you can barely have a proper bath. Whereas in the UK, baths feel more normal.

I remember reading this Gwyneth Paltrow quote from when she was living in London with Chris Martin, where she said the only thing that would get the cold out of her bones was a bath. And it is literally true.

At home growing up, though, I don’t remember anyone having a bath as a ritual. We had a bath, but it was more of a vessel for us to wash her hair over. The thermal baths were the cultural thing.

As I got older, I’ve become more of a spa person.

I like massages, but I haven’t found my spa spot in London. But any time I stayed in a fancy hotel, maybe on a press trip when I was working at magazines, if there was a good bath, I would absolutely have one.

I remember being in New York in my early twenties and knowing I had a bath back at the hotel, so I’d go to the nearest CVS or supermarket to get bath salts. Magnesium, Epsom salts, anything. There is nothing sadder than having a bath with just hotel body wash that you’re trying to lather up. I would frantically go and find something to make the bath feel more fun.

I think my love of Japanese tubs came through visiting Japan.

I’ve been going for maybe eight years now, and I would visit onsens or stay in hotels with outdoor baths. I always wanted to enjoy that feeling.

There’s a brand that makes these hinoki wood bath salts. I didn’t realise you could get them in the UK, so I would bring huge 2 kilogram tubs of them back in my suitcase because I thought they were the best thing ever.

Japanese smells, incense, wood — they all feel so part of the bathing ritual. Even the idea of wood warming up, if it’s a real hinoki bath, and scenting the whole room. There’s something so beautiful about that.

When I was redesigning my house, the space where the bath is now was originally the main bathroom.

It had a bath with a shower over it. And I think maybe because of the trauma of my childhood bath, I didn’t want another utilitarian bath-shower situation just because it made the most sense spatially.

I wanted to open up the room and make the whole space feel peaceful. A place where you sleep and lounge. I also have a wood-burning fire in there, so in winter I’ll have a bath with the fire on, which you literally can’t get better than that.

I searched for a really long time for someone in the UK who made Japanese ofuro baths.

A lot of options were things you could ship from Japan, which just seemed outrageous. Then I found this place in Devon. They’ve been making them for years. They’re handmade, and I think it took six months to make mine.

It’s the best thing ever. I love it so much. This house is quite stark and minimal, and the bath is the perfect thing in my eyes. Every time I turn the corner upstairs and see it, it makes me happy. It brings such a nice warmth.

My bath routine is usually: I run the bath, which takes ages.

Sometimes I’ll light a candle. Sometimes incense, but it can get a bit too smoky upstairs. Sometimes I’ll shower first and then have a bath — true Japanese style. Washing my sins away.

The timing has to be right, because there’s nothing worse than being wet from the shower and the bath not being ready.

Then I’ll add magnesium salts, or some sort of flaky salts. I’ll use Susanne Kaufmann, or now 39BC, because they add the scent and softness. Everything else feels quite medical in a way.

In the bath, I mostly think about work. Honestly, work full stop.

I’m the founder of Climax Books, which is a concept bookstore and brand. My background is in publishing and fashion. When I’m in the bath, I normally put a book out and tell myself I’m going to read it. And then obviously I just end up on my phone.

I wish I was better, but there’s no shame in it.

Sometimes I’m like, I’ve got emails, I need to edit pictures for a project while I’m waiting. I do think you think better in the bath, so sometimes I want my phone near me. Sometimes I’ll put my laptop up and watch something.

I do love that business hotels in Japan often have these deep soaking tubs with a TV mounted nearby. It’s so fabulous.

Believe it or not, I never wear scent.

When it comes to scent, my mum always smelled like Chanel No.19. It was very strong. I love scent on other people. My boyfriend is obsessed with scents. Each time I got to New York he has discovered a new one. He always smells so good. I think it’s such a powerful thing. I love when people have spent years perfecting their scent and how they mix things. I find that so endearing.

But whenever I try to wear a scent, it feels too strong on me. I want to wash it off. So I like the idea of scent coming in different ways including with scented body wash.

My shower routine now

is that I’ll use the Soft Services body bars and exfoliate everything off my skin. Then I’ll use Aesop, almost in a clinical washing way. And then I end with 39BC. It feels like the final seal. Then I’ll do body oil and body butter.

I use Osea oil, which is really light. I’ve also just been sent the Mount Sapo one, which looks nice. And I love Everyday Oil in New York.

What I like about oils is that when the fragrance is in the oil, it warms into your skin and becomes part of you. It feels less like something sitting on top.

My favourite 39BC scent is Fig Milk.

There’s only a tiny drip left in my shower. I need to order more. It melts into your skin in this way that feels very part of you.

Yes, Fig Milk feels part of me.

I think in fashion, you can spend so much time trying to be someone or performing. As you get older and become more sure of yourself and your identity, it’s really nice to find products that work with your identity. Things that enhance you rather than making you feel like you’re wearing something.

It’s the same with clothing. I love dressing up and playing with the idea of being this girl or that girl, but there’s something about an everyday uniform that feels really luxurious and sexy. You get to put this oil on in the shower, but then you don’t get out and feel like someone else. You still feel like yourself.

That’s a big thing for me.

Sometimes you get gifted something amazing and you want to love it, but it’s so strong.

There’s a thoughtfulness in 39BC. It meets people where they are.

The packaging and branding are so smart. The website is sharp, but it still feels welcoming. It doesn’t feel like you’re not good enough. Some luxury brands make you feel like that, like you’re being judged at the counter.

And I don’t want to spend my hard-earned money to be made to feel like terrible by someone being snobby. It’s just not worth it.

What’s also smart is that the packaging is lightweight, usable and practical, but still elevated. Some luxury packaging looks beautiful but is heavy, clunky and annoying to use. In the shower, with wet hands, you don’t want a heavy lid flying off and cracking a tile.

Most of the time, I use the product in the shower quickly, but this cleansing oil adds this little thing. And then the time when I’m having a bath, it becomes a different experience.

If someone told me they didn’t like baths…

I’d say: come to my house. Come upstairs. The bathtub fits two people.

I have had baths with my boyfriend, but it’s never the romantic fantasy you imagine. It’s usually just us giggling in the bath in a really cute, sweet way.

And maybe that’s actually more romantic.

Photos: Suzannah Pettigrew