New York Tales

Ten people are waiting in front of a large round tub, each one filled with water and ice. Without hesitation, they step in. Five minutes later they’re sitting in the sauna, doing breathing exercises, drinking an electrolyte solution. Then they write down their feelings in notepads laid out for them: Anxious? Inspired? Content? It’s Saturday morning in New York, nine o’clock. Time for self-optimisation. In Manhattan, wellness is no longer a leisurely spa day – it’s a tightly scheduled program.

Self-care here is celebrated almost like high-performance sport. New Yorkers, known for their ambition, are particularly driven in this discipline too. To keep up, you don’t just train your muscles, but also your regeneration, your nervous system, your microbiome. The body becomes a project: constantly measured and improved.

A particularly well-known recovery club is Remedy Place. The studio feels like a futuristic airport lounge. In the lobby, decorated in elegant shades of grey, a client is already sitting in a cabin breathing into an oxygen device, looking like Darth Vader himself. For the lymphatic compression therapy, you’re zipped into a skin-tight suit; air-filled chambers compress your legs and abdomen to stimulate lymphatic flow. For a moment, I feel like a vacuum-sealed sausage.

A “highlight” of a particular kind is the massage performed by an AI-controlled robot. During the introduction, the receptionist earnestly explains that I must not press the red emergency button under any circumstances, unless absolutely necessary. Which, of course, means my gaze nervously drifts to the red button throughout the entire treatment. I’m asked to step into a tight suit, my body is scanned and analysed. When I then lie face down, two plastic arms knead my back. Beneath my face is an iPad on which I can adjust the music, the intensity and the body zones. The options are endless. Instead of relaxing deeply, I spend the hour clicking through rainforest soundtracks.

Wellness in the Big Apple is long no longer limited to high-tech recovery. The social experience is also playing an increasingly important role. This is particularly clear at Othership, the studio I mentioned earlier, which offers group experiences around sauna, ice bath and breathwork. Inside, the atmosphere is surprisingly open. People sit around a fire, talking; some have come as a group, others spontaneously strike up conversations with strangers. For the particulary shy, small introduction cards are available to help break the ice. Along with 64 other clients, I become No. 65 as a guide leads us into the sauna and through the next hour. We do breathing exercises and I’m instructed to reflect on painful childhood experiences. I drip with sweat, dazed by the scent of ylang-ylang and geranium. Finally, we’re asked to focus on a candle flame in the middle of the sauna. Afterwards, we share our experiences with the others. Typical New York: no one holds back. At least, with all this soul-stripping, we’re wearing swimsuits.

Another wellness industry is booming in New York: luxury supermarkets. Despite the cost-of-living crisis, Gen Z and Millennials happily spend 15 dollars on pistachio milk. At Meadow Lane in Tribeca, exquisitely curated products line beige shelves; while art adorns the walls alongside elegantly packaged gourmet treats. I can’t resist and buy a small box of guava-nectar collagen jellies (24 dollars).

A few blocks away, the trendy Happier Grocery lives up to its name: here it’s particularly chic to post your shopping on social media. The transparent plastic bags in which the products are stored are so aesthetic that for many New Yorkers they’ve become a status symbol. The phenomenon of the luxury supermarket began at Erewhon in Los Angeles. In New York, the famous Erewhon smoothies are so far only available via Uber Eats – for 25 dollars.

Between breathwork rituals, cold chambers, gut shots and shopping for collagen snacks, the question eventually arises: does all this permanent optimisation actually help? Or does it mainly create new pressure to be even healthier, fitter, more productive? After numerous treatments, my body feels relaxed, but somehow recovery has become another task on my to-do list. Honestly: if this is wellness, I’ll need a vacation first.