I turned right at Barry’s Boot Camp and arrived at my destination: Arc, a communal sauna and cold plunge studio in London’s financial district, which markets itself as a place for people to connect.
You can start your week there with a guided contrast therapy class —that is, switching between extreme heat and cold— at 7:30 a.m. on Monday morning, and see it out with a sauna party on Saturday night, complete with DJs, aromatherapy, and of course, cold plunges.
While saunas and ice baths aren’t new (they’re known to help athletes recover faster and are a must in any bougie gym or spa), they’re quickly becoming a staple of social wellness: the blending together of socializing with wellness activities, such as running clubs and longevity retreats.
The merging of these trends makes sense. The global wellness industry was valued at $6.3 trillion in 2023, up 25% since 2019, and after being starved of social connection during the COVID-19 pandemic, people are becoming more aware of the link between socializing and longevity.
Social saunas are popping up everywhere. Rebase, another self-proclaimed “social wellness” club, opened in London last May, while Othership, a Toronto-based “social sauna” and ice bath studio, launched its first US spa in July with more than 20 locations across North America expected to follow in the next five years. Bathhouse, a New York-based spa with two locations, just added four additional pools and two saunas to its Williamsburg branch.
Arc opened in London’s Canary Wharf in January and calls itself a community-focused space, where guests are guided on “a journey of self-discovery, personal growth, and meaningful connection within themselves and others.” I was there to attend Dopamine Reset, a guided contrast therapy session that promises to “reset the brain’s reward system,” “break old habits,” and “unlock new levels of growth and peak experiences” — a tall order for a 50-minute class.
I wanted to try it for two reasons. Firstly, as a woman in my twenties I naturally spend too much time on the internet and have anxiety. So, I’m always keen to experiment with something that might snap me out of my thought spirals. But secondly, and most importantly, I wanted to see if meeting new people while exposing myself to extreme temperatures, almost nude, would be as awkward as it sounds, or actually provide an opportunity for bonding. Breaking the ice, if you will.
So I took the plunge and booked the £35 ($44) class.
I felt uncomfortable walking into the class
Excited and nervous, I left the chic changing room in my swimsuit and entered a dimly lit ampitheatre-cum-cave called The Lounge: a terracotta room big enough for 50 people, with a tiered conversation pit at its center. I sat near three young women, all wearing smartwatches that were most certainly tracking their biometrics. So far, so awkward and lonely.
Of the 12 out of a possible 40 of us in the 12:30 p.m. class, there was only one man, who was taking a break from training for Hyrox, a buzzy, intensive indoor fitness competition.
(You’ll notice that there are no people in the photos accompanying this piece — the sauna understandably didn’t want us to take pics of guests in their swimsuits, or disrupt their journeys of self-discovery).
After a few minutes, our teacher — or “sauna master” in Arc lingo — appeared mic’d up and wearing a one-piece swimsuit and a long sarong to explain the structure of the class.
We would be led through breathwork, meditation, and gentle stretches in the sauna for around 15 minutes before hitting the ice baths. There, we would submerge ourselves in freezing water (a maximum of 42 degrees Fahrenheit) for two minutes. The magic — the activation of the parasympathetic nervous system, which helps the body relax — starts to happen after the 30-second mark, she said.
We spread out along the benches of the sauna built to could accommodate 65 people
The 65-person wooden sauna was wide and tall enough for the twelve of us to spread out along its three benches. Our teacher started the class by throwing a snowball filled with essential oils onto the coals at the center of the room and whipping a towel in a circular motion in the air to spread the floral aromas. The room was heated to a near-uncomfortable 200 degrees Fahrenheit, and I started sweating almost immediately.
Breathing exercises in extreme heat weren’t relaxing
As we started the breathwork —which involved rounds of inhaling, holding our breath, and exhaling for four seconds each — I loosened up a bit, mainly because we were encouraged to close our eyes. I’m used to breathing exercises like this in my weekly yoga classes and know my way around the Headspace app , but holding my breath in the extreme heat was strenuous and frankly unpleasant.
I didn’t feel particularly relaxed yet and hadn’t shared so much as a smile with anyone. This all changed when we moved on to the next section of the class.
I shared my ice bath with a fellow classmate
After a quick post-sauna rinse in the shower room adjacent to the sauna, where I slathered myself with complementary Malin+Goetz shower gel, it was time to get chilly.
In a charcoal-colored room made entirely out of stone were eight ice baths. It had a harsh feel compared to the light natural materials of the sauna and the lounge.
Each bath was large enough for two people, and I partnered with Carli Wheatley, 42, who I later found out is a lymphatic massage therapist and has worked in the wellness industry for years — a theme among my classmates.
I felt apprehensive as we assumed our positions and at the count of three, all stepped inside the icy vats and sat down. The pain hit my feet, legs, and hands immediately, and I had to fight the urge to get out. But lo and behold, after about 30 seconds, my muscles started to relax, and I felt calmer. Wheatley and I intermittently shared exasperated looks, which reassured me.
A gong signaled that two minutes were up, and we stepped out. My legs felt numb, and it was as if currents of electricity were zapping me. I felt awake from the inside out: an awakeness I had never felt before. Like an espresso entering your bloodstream, but without the mania.
After the ice bath, I started to feel more comfortable and chatted with the people around me
Re-entering the sauna, the atmosphere had softened. Everyone’s body language was more open, and we started chatting about our shared experience (trauma). The intensity of the ice bath served as a welcome social buffer.
I asked people why they decided to come and if they enjoyed it. Those I spoke to (I wasn’t able to chat with everyone in the class) were either into health and wellness or worked in the industry. They had come for the sauna’s physical and mental benefits, not to socialize, but I do wonder if this would’ve been different had I come to an evening event.
Renata Bianchi, a 38-year-old hypnotherapist from Brazil, said that she found Arc online, thought the facilities looked beautiful, and wanted to try it. She told me she’d like to come back again next week.
One woman, who wants to train as a sauna master and is a fan of the cult health-optimization podcast, the “Huberman Lab,” told us that she had been to Arc about seven times in the three months since it opened. She grew up using saunas and loves the high she gets from contrast therapy.
“I’ve heard it’s good for metabolism and brown fat, but that’s not why I do it,” she said.
I went for a second dip, with friends!
Although no one had come for the social aspect, they were all up for chatting, and a group of us decided to give the ice baths a second go. We exhaled loudly and giggled to get through round two. It reminded me a little of summer camp.
We popped into the sauna again to warm up, shared some last-minute reflections on the state of the world, and gradually dispersed.
As I made my way back to the changing area, I realized that I hadn’t thought about anything outside of these three rooms for at least 20 minutes. That was a huge win, which told me I had been in the moment and felt calm.
The social sauna class got me out of my head
I felt calmer and more grounded leaving Arc than I did walking in. I also had some pleasant conversations and enjoyed myself.
But, as is the case with many wellness treatments designed to help you destress and boost your sense of well-being, the effects were short-lived. After I left the luxury subterranean spa, I rejoined the real world: the cause of my stress.
I felt that I could’ve achieved that calm feeling for less money, or even for free, if I put my phone down and started each morning with a sunrise walk.
But it’s easier to go to a sauna class than to delete your Instagram account or confront a demanding boss.
If I had the money and the time, I could see myself becoming a regular, albeit more for the relaxation than the connection. Did I leave with a new group of friends? No. But it got me out of my head and chatting to people, which is a difficult feat in our fast-paced, digital-first world.
