Who isn’t trying to build “community” in 2025? Brands see it in their customer base, social media creators in their audience, and movements in their supporters.
But Amanda Laine lives it. From the moment she and her husband Harrison Taylor met, they knew they wanted to build something together. She hadn’t expected to bring three more people into the fold, but that’s how community tends to go: it grows.
In the last three years, Othership—a social club offering guided sauna-and-cold-plunge classes—has grown from its first location in downtown Toronto into four locations, in both Canada and the U.S. The company announced earlier this month that a fifth location would open in 2027.
In August, the wellness brand, which offers a breathwork app on top of its classes and sober raves, raised $11.3 million on top of the $10 million it drew in since launching in 2022.
Othership’s newest bathhouse, which officially opened in Williamsburg, Brooklyn on Monday can hold up to 100 guests in its 6,500-square-foot space. That’s a 20 percent increase in capacity from Othership’s first New York City location in the Flatiron area.
Community may have always been the goal, but it still amazes Laine every time she hears that she’s pulled it off.
“Someone cried in my arms yesterday, telling me, ‘This has helped me so much,” Laine, one of Othership’s five co-founders, told Newsweek. “Those moments—even though I probably hear them more and see them more—never stop surprising me. I can’t believe to the extent of how much we created something that is actually helping people.”
When young people, particularly Gen Z, emerged from the COVID lockdowns, many desperately sought in-person interactions. Post-pandemic polling from Ipsos that Gen Z wants more in-person time with colleagues than any other generation, while a survey conducted by CNBC earlier this year discovered that only 17 percent of Gen Z feel “deeply connected with at least one community.”
Having lost much of their face-to-face social time, many also craved third spaces, like bars, cafes or libraries—public places outside of home and work, where they could socialize and meet new people.
“There’s definitely a fun social element to just being around other people, even if you’re not really talking,” Richard Slatcher, a psychology professor at the University of Georgia, told Newsweek. “It’s the kind of thing that we missed out on during the pandemic.”
Last month, Slatcher and five of his colleagues published a study that found live events to be an “avenue for social connection.”
“It’s tremendously beneficial,” he said of in-person interaction.
At the same time, attitudes around drinking also are shifting. According to a 2023 survey from Gallup, the share of 18- 34-year-old Americans who say they drink has declined 10 percentage points over the past two decades, from 72 percent to 62 percent. The number of drinks consumed also has shrunk, dropping from a weekly average of 5.2 drinks in 2001 – 2003 to 3.6 drinks in 2021 – 2023.
The convergence of those social trends has created a landscape ripe for wellness clubs like Othership to flourish. Eventbrite data released in August showed not only a 92 percent increase in sober-curious gatherings, but also a 1,105 percent increase in attendance at thermal gatherings. In New York City, both sauna raves and cold plunge parties have surged 900 percent.
Slatcher, who has become something of a sauna devotee in the last few years, said these experiences offer “a fantastic one-two punch” for health and well-being, not only delivering physical benefits but also offering an opportunity for people to connect with others in the community.
Laine said that while a team of five co-founders might be unusual, it allows her and her husband to stay on the creative side of the brand, while the other co-founders, Robbie and Emily Bent and Myles Farmer, focus on the business aspects.
In the beginning, Laine and her husband wrote all of the programming for Othership’s guided classes, directly trained each of the bathhouse’s guides, and taught class after class. As the brand grew, however, Laine emerged as the company’s director of guides, while her husband took on the position of director of programming.
Today, she oversees a team of more than 100 guides across Othership’s four locations.”The team has completely expanded and it’s kind of bittersweet,” she said, reflecting on how her role has changed. She said that although she misses leading classes in the warm glow of Othership’s wood-paneled saunas, her step back reflects the trust that the company has been able to build among its guides.
“With every shift, we become more pulled out of the day-to-day,” she continued. “But we trust the team we’ve built, and it allows us to focus on expansion and on diving back into the creative side so we can continue evolving and revamping the programming.”
When she taught more frequently, Laine loved leading “journeyers” (as Othership refers to its clients) through “softer, feminine classes” that the bathhouse offers.
“‘Self-care Sweat’ is one of my favorite classes. The girls flock to it,” Laine said. “We also have classes that are called ‘Space for Women,’ which is just a pure female class. Those have so much power behind them. They’re offered once a month at each location but those are the coolest chance for women to come together.”
Sauna-goers also have the option to skip the guided sessions and take a self-guided journey known as “Free Flow” to explore the bathhouse’s glowing saunas and dark cold plunges.
While Othership caught the attention of many male biohackers early on, Laine said emphasis on the emotional benefits of the sauna-and-ice-bath experience helped draw more women to their bathhouses.
“I love that we have the space for both sexes to feel super welcomed,” she said. “We’re never too spiritual. We’re never woo-woo. We’re never on the verge of making anyone feel excluded.”
Despite those efforts, some outsiders are still quick to label Othership a cult. Laine, who said she used to get “so fired up” about those criticisms, chuckles about it now.
“I was able to reframe it as, ‘Wow, people feel such belonging here that it can freak people out,'” she said. “If people haven’t felt a shift or done any sort of personal work, then it can feel like kind of isolating in a way, like, ‘Oh, I can’t go here. I don’t belong here.'”
“People either fight it or join it. If they’re on the ‘fight it’ side, they’re going to fight it for a while, but if you’ve created something in a brand that’s so strong that people have an emotional reaction, all the power for it,” she smiles.