Nestled on Los Angeles’s Sunset Strip, around the corner from Chateau Marmont, the dimmed lights of Remedy Place beckon. The newly opened 10,000-square-foot establishment has a sultry, moody feel with slate gray tones and jewel-colored velvet drapery. Tufted leather sofas and potted plants pepper a sleek lounge beside a bar where athleisure-clad individuals sip on adaptogen-packed mocktails. Remedy Place looks more like a hotel lobby than anything else.
Except for the fitness studio, hyperbaric chambers, and cryotherapy machines within view.
This elite space is not a gym, medical clinic, or biohacking lab. It’s a private wellness club, says founder Jonathan Leary, who also runs a private concierge practice.
Over the past few years, Leary heard from countless clients who complained they had no “toxic or temptation-free” place to hang out. And, as he notes, “in a place like L.A., people do love some type of exclusivity.”
Remedy Place encourages members to replace coffee dates with IV-drip meet-ups and sports fans to gather for televised games. “We’re trying to coin the term ‘social self-care,’” Leary says. But its kombucha-flowing happy hours don’t come cheap nor are they for everyone. Monthly memberships start at $495, and the cap is at 200 members. Remedy Place hasn’t done any overt marketing or advertising; it has relied on word-of-mouth and a few select invitations. So far, it’s worked — before the November launch, the club counted a number of celebrities, entertainment industry elite, and pro-athletes as members. On day two, Nike sent its executive team. Goop was fast behind.
Remedy Place is one of several new wellness clubs appealing to an upscale clientele by way of luxe concepts and strategic community building. In December, Monarch Athletic Club, a one-stop shop that marries high-end fitness with hobnobbing, opened its Los Angeles doors. The high-end facility charges $1,000-$2,000 per month for unlimited private workout training along with a recovery suite, IV therapy, and nutrition bar. Members can also tack on a la carte services such as metabolic panel testing and anti-aging aesthetic treatments and access a concierge doctor who can be booked for same-day house or office calls.
These spaces are presented as elite social networks or tribes — the 21st-century version of a country club. But instead of sharing stock tips on the putting green, you’re power-networking on yoga mats.
Wellness was already battling a perception as the new luxury signifier, but it’s escalated to a new echelon. It’s no longer about where you work out but also about with whom you work out. You need to know the right people, be in the right shape, and offer something in return — social cache — for application approval. It’s the next step for those who see fitness as being intertwined with their personal brand.
Wellness is now a doorway to exclusivity.
The Brooklyn luxury fitness lounge Ghost bills itself as an “architectural playground” full of art, boutique fitness classes, and luxury amenities like infrared saunas and meditation pods. But more than anything, the 6,000-square-foot facility promises a social and cultural experience for Williamsburg’s hippest.
Founder and CEO Aqib Rashid calls his month-old Ghost the “Soho House of fitness,” a Saturday night hotspot complete with DJs and alcohol-free cocktails. It’s meant to attract a network of high-caliber people who might not meet otherwise — an intermingling of media moguls, startup founders, creative directors, and influencers.
It has only 100 open spots. Membership costs $3,000 a year.
Ghost is primarily invite-only, though it does accept some new applicants. In deciding whether to accept an applicant, Ghost considers their job, lifestyle, and health and wellness interests. But mostly, notes Rashid, “Is this someone who would mesh well with what we’re trying to create here? Are they looking to be part of something for their health but also expand their social circles?”
Similarly, invite-only Manhattan boutique workout studio The Ness (15 classes for $380) recruits new clients by way of a member referral system — essentially friends recommending friends. You need to know a current member to get in. It’s an intimate space where classes are limited to 12 spots. Cofounder Colette Dong explains that her clients, mostly female, prefer a more familiar setting to best express themselves physically.
“If you’re hosting a dinner party at your house, would you post flyers of the invite and say, ‘Everyone come over for dinner’? No, you invite your friends,” says Dong. “We feel the same way about fitness and garnering a community. … [Our clients] feel really comfortable and let loose.”
A quarter of The Ness’ layout is dedicated to social interaction, and the cofounders connect members post-class. That could mean introducing consultants to potential clients, recommending a wedding planner to a bride, or just syncing two people who share the same health condition.
Other studios have a more pure, fitness-driven philosophy: New York’s Performix House, a gym and recovery studio staffed by elite trainers, caters to those who are “super serious about their fitness life and their career,” says founder Matt Hesse. For $900 a month, clients are treated to one-on-one training, dietitians, and tailored workout playlists. There’s even an on-site creative studio that employs both a photographer and videographer to capture clients’ sweatiest moments.
Performix House does accept applications. Candidates must detail their activity levels, then there are both phone and in-person interviews to assess whether they “fit the culture.” The selective process also includes a look at applicants’ social media and LinkedIn profiles. “We want the best of the best,” says Hesse.
Meredith Poppler, VP of leadership engagement at the International Health, Racquet & Sportsclub Association describes these clubs as taking the tribal concept to “an even higher level” of exclusivity and elitism.
High-end boutique studios are now the fastest-growing sector of the U.S. gym market, accounting for 35% of the $32 billion industry. As clubs look to differentiate themselves in an increasingly crowded market, the fitness industry is quickly evolving into more hybrid experiences, says fitness market analyst Bryan K. O’Rourke, founder and CEO of Vedere Ventures, which invests in health clubs. Lululemon is now also a restaurant, Life Time doubles as a coworking space, Equinox opened a hotel, and SoulCycle offers travel retreats. But another thing is clear with the majority of the new concepts, says O’Rourke: “You’re moving to budget, or you’re moving to luxe.”
“It’s much easier to target the 1% than it is to really come up with a model for the 95%,” explains McGroarty, who laments the lack of a thriving “wellness middle class.”
The 2020 fitness industry will reflect the realities of American income inequality and the country’s shrinking middle class. Today’s “hourglass economy” results in the YMCA and Planet Fitness on one end and affluent boutique gyms on the other. The latter, explains Beth McGroarty, director of research at the Global Wellness Institute, syncs with trends in the food and fashion industries, which offer a disproportionate amount of pricey, “small batch” personalized products that serve as a rebellion against mass-market accessibility.
“It’s much easier to target the 1% than it is to really come up with a model for the 95%,” explains McGroarty, who laments the lack of a thriving “wellness middle class.”
Luxe social self-care establishments answer a real need for community, and one could argue that the 1% suffers just as much from the loneliness epidemic affecting the rest of the populace. The issue, however, is whether such exclusive models exploit loneliness. Others might take issue with the fact that health is being used as an entry point to elite networking and access to power.
“Money can always buy things, but invite-only is of a different order,” says McGroarty, who worries such models send consumers the wrong message: that one needs to spend lavishly to ensure their health and social standing. “Community is the new entrance and aspiration.”
While the upper class perfects their downward dog, the communities most in need of physical exercise profoundly lack it. A 2018 study found that three-quarters of wealthy individuals exercise on most days compared with one-quarter in lower-income populations. That gap, researchers predict, will only further widen. Apart from a limited amount of gyms or recreational centers in rural areas, many people lack access to parks or safe outdoor spaces. In these “exercise deserts,” residents are far less physically active than those in urban and suburban areas.
As the hourglass squeezes, who will stand to benefit from future innovation and investment?
While much of the buzz surrounding wellness focuses on hyper-luxe offerings, O’Rourke predicts a plethora of new products and services, particularly in the streaming fitness realm, to meet a broader population’s needs in 2020 and beyond. Plenty of fitness apps cost under $10 a month, and YouTube is flush with workout videos.
As for live experiences, experts anticipate that innovation at the top will begin to trickle downward. O’Rourke cites Germany’s largest low-cost fitness operator, McFit, which is launching an affordable, social-focused chain in Europe that incorporates music and design to create an atmosphere almost like a dance club.
Some of these luxe concepts might be more welcoming as time goes on. Social fitness and run club Electric Flight Crew started as invite-only in 2016 to build a community of like-minded individuals in Los Angeles.
“We didn’t want it to be an industry network club but a group of friends,” recalls Electric Flight Crew cofounder Dr. Joshua T. Goldman. After a few years, once a core culture was established, Electric Flight Crew opened the circle to new applicants. Today it runs 11 chapters — generally capped at 50 members — engaged in a group exercise followed by drinks at a bar or a boozy brunch for $30 a month.
With increased demand, there’s hope for more inclusive innovation — the kind that doesn’t require in-person interviews or Instagram analysis. “We’re going to continue to see offerings proliferate in all kinds of ways,” says O’Rourke. “For $10 a month, you can join a Planet Fitness and have an experience that’s going to become significantly better over time.”
Till then, however, better freshen your résumé.
