From Rituals to Revenue

Is wellness becoming a cult?

This question has been circulating across the masses for some time now, as formerly pedestalled pastimes – like late, substance-fuelled nights spent sidling up against strangers in a club throbbing with music until 2 AM – seem to lose some of their luster. That isn’t to say society doesn’t still love a good party, but just as cigarettes fell out of favour in years past, the popularity of alcohol appears to be dimming as the sober-curious community grows, trading pounding hangovers for early mornings spent pounding the pavement (literally) or enduring a gruelling Hyrox simulation.

And yes, some may argue that the cult of partying has been replaced with the cult of wellness. Instead of nightclubs packed with scantily clothed, sweaty bodies and sloshing vodka sodas, we now have saunas packed with even more scantily clothed, sweatier bodies, coupled with sloshing ice baths, the overpowering scent of signature incense and essential oils, and overpriced electrolyte drinks. The bouncers, in this case, may still be muscled but offer a far more zen demeanour. Clad in a sarong and moving – or rather, gliding – through the space with a serene smile, their voice and waving towels settling like a curated garnish across a space designed to feel like an expensive, aesthetically pleasing womb. You might still hear some Fred Again or Rüfüs Du Sol, and you may even witness some toned limbs undulating subtly to that music under dim, warm lights, but these spaces exist for patrons to indulge in a different sort of pleasure: the pursuit of relaxation and wellness.

We are, perhaps, still a society in the grips of escapism, but now we’re hungry for a different, healthier version of it – one that adds years to our lives instead of taking them. This is a well explored concept, especially with popular shows like Nine Perfect Strangers and The White Lotus providing an artfully sardonic glimpse into the emerging world of luxury wellness retreats. And so, it may feel easy to scoff at the popularity of wellness brands and offerings – you might even write it off as a passing trend. You might think it’s too much, or too curated, or too cult-like – and listen, I can understand that point of view. While I am, myself, rather obsessed with all things fitness and wellness, I would usually rather crawl out of my own skin than endure an “eye-gazing” ritual with a total stranger in a hot sauna, or join in on a group vocal release or ecstatic dance exercise. I also don’t personally glean much tangible benefit from having a sound bowl placed beside my head while lowering myself into a freezing tub of water. Basically, I drink the Kool-aid, I just like to do it on my terms. But that doesn’t mean I can’t recognize the allure and marketability of these spaces, nor am I surprised to see the speed at which they've amassed a loyal following and captured widespread interest. Perhaps the cult of wellness is a trend – but if you ask me, it’s one with undeniable staying power, and it’s one that shouldn’t be ignored.

It came as no surprise, then, to see that (Toronto-based) Othership has just raised $11.3 million to expand its “luxury immersive sauna and ice bath social experience” across the United States. The growth of the business has, quite honestly, been incredible to witness. Their flagship location at Richmond and Adelaide is nestled in the heart of Toronto’s west end, in a space that was formerly a boutique boxing studio (which I used to work at, pre-pandemic) and, before that, a popular nightclub. Nextdoor to Othership Adelaide is Nutbar, a popular watering hole for pilate princesses and gym bros alike as they wash down their workout with a green juice or matcha drink with custom, plant-based milks. Othership's second location opened its doors in the Yorkville neighbourhood, appealing to its masses of affluent, lululemon and Alo Yoga-clad women and Bay-street suits, many of whom bounce between Equinox, Barry’s Bootcamp, and the other, boutique fitness offerings in the area. Most recently, Othership opened its flagship New York City location, which will soon be followed by a Williamsburg location and – if this funding round is any indication – additional locations in the near future. Beyond its physical locations and experiences, Othership also offers a popular breathwork app, further cementing its position as a leader in the wellness space. And while the current economic landscape has proved difficult for many startups and small businesses, Othership has maintained a strong growth trajectory, well supported by investors eager to get a piece of the wellness pie.

You might be wondering – what is so special about Othership? What lessons can be squeezed from this success story, and perhaps be applied to other entrants to this wellness-obsessed marketplace? There are a few obvious things to note. For one, the spaces are expertly designed and objectively gorgeous, and they do an (unsurprisingly) great job of showcasing this across social media and advertisements. They even have branded sauna hats and merch, as well as their own signature scent. In fact, as I write this, I have an Othership incense burning in my Puerto Escondido apartment. But the truth is, just about anyone can design a beautiful space (with good taste, skilled contractors, and a decent budget). The magic Othership tapped into, if you ask me, is community building and FOMO creation. Despite the phone-free nature of the establishment, Othership is an experience patrons feel compelled to share with their friends and across their social networks. What’s more, it offers a community-rich approach to wellness which, traditionally, has been a path earmarked by some degree of loneliness. After all, if you’re one of the few members of your social circle who would rather go to the gym than go to the club on a Friday night, you might often feel “othered” on a path that was, until recently, less-traveled.

Othership has also established an engaged network of local fitness and wellness influencers (referred to as Co-Pilots) that frequently post about their visits to the space and offer exclusive discounts on class packs or for newbies. I know this because I was a part of this network prior to moving out of Toronto, and many of my friends and fellow fitness instructors in the city are Co-Pilots as well. On that note, Othership is strategic in who they hire; many of their guides are well-known instructors or fitness influencers who encourage their members to recover as hard as they train. At the same time, Othership’s selection of guided classes and “Free Flow” sessions ensure there is something for everyone, including “socials” strategically scheduled on weekend evenings as an alternative to a more traditional night out. In this way, Othership has become a preferred date spot for some, a self-care destination for others, and a weekly recovery protocol for many. Whatever your motive, Othership represents a healthy ritual in an often unhealthy world – a ritual that is dripping with dopamine and adrenaline, shared with others in an aesthetic environment. This formula breeds continued foot traffic and social interest, which translates to retention and long-term growth potential. And perhaps most importantly, this kind of community and experience can’t be replicated by technology or delivered across a screen – it has to be seen, and felt, and experienced in real life.

The need for real-life experiences and social engagement – as well as the need for “third spaces” is alive and well, and it is not yet fully satiated. If anything, as our world tumbles further down the path of AI-powered optimization and screen-based interactions, humans are likely to become increasingly ravenous for more traditional, IRL connection. We may have more conveniences and tools at our fingertips than ever before, but the truth is this: many of us are lonely, and many of us have learned (perhaps the hard way) that hobbies and habits that negate our health lead us on a race to the bottom. While the relentless pursuit of wellness might be viewed by some, or even by many, as another obsession or addiction, I think it’s simply reflective of a society that wants to live better and live longer, and find some kernels of authentic connection and alignment along the way. The brands that recognize this need, and create spaces and offerings rooted in servitude to it, are sure to be embraced by the “wellness cult” with open arms (and open wallets).