How Equinox Turned Fitness Into a Religion

24 Hour Fitness costs $30/month. Planet Fitness is $10. Equinox? $300/month.

For that price, you get refrigerated eucalyptus towels, high-end skincare products, and pristine facilities that feel more like luxury hotels than gyms. But material perks don't explain why the average Equinox member visits four times per week, double the frequency of typical gym-goers.

What You're Really Paying For

Walk into an Equinox and you'll notice something immediately: the people are different. Members wipe down equipment without being asked. No one grunts obnoxiously or leaves weights on the floor. There's an unspoken code of conduct and class.

But deeper than manners, Equinox sells belonging. Each location has its own tribe. Fashion models at SoHo, finance executives at Rockefeller Center, creatives in Los Angeles. You're not just choosing a gym, you're choosing your community.

Members don't just work out and enjoy the nicer equipment. They actually want to get to know each other during group classes and sports. People network and shoot the shit in the sauna. They truly treat it like a third space.

Why Millennials Pay the Premium

Equinox capitalized on a generational shift: status moved from possessions to experiences. Your Instagram feed matters more than your car. Health became the new wealth signal.

You're not paying for equipment access. Instead, you're investing in an identity as someone who is deeply committed to self-improvement.

Belonging is More Important Than Ever

As society becomes more secular, people still crave community and meaning. Equinox members found theirs through wellness.

Where did you find yours?

In 1985, a 24-year-old named Randy Miller ran a $100 million beverage company. He arrived at work on a Harley-Davidson with a leashed Bengal tiger, drove nitro-fueled drag racers, and sported a legendary mullet. His product? Original New York Seltzer, the first major flavored seltzer brand in America.

The problem? Sugar. At 80 calories per serving, it was basically as unhealthy as soda. By the early 1990s, after a failed acquisition, Original New York Seltzer was bankrupt. Miller got to keep his tiger though.

Then LaCroix Became a Household Name

Launched in 1980 by a Wisconsin (not French!) brewing company, LaCroix stumbled through obscurity for decades. Zero calories. Barely-there fruit flavor. Nobody cared, until 2013 when consumer preferences changed.

That year, soda sales were tanking. Millennials wanted healthier options. Instagram hit 100 million users. LaCroix leaned hard into the platform, letting customers market for them. "Pampelmousse" grapefruit water in colorful cans became an aesthetic choice, not just a drink.

By 2018, LaCroix grew 38% year-over-year. The company's now valued at $4.6 billion.

The Jump to Alcohol Was Inevitable

SpikedSeltzer launched in 2013. White Claw and Truly followed. By then, consumer behavior was already trained: zero-calorie fizzy water with subtle fruit flavor felt normal. Add 5% ABV and suddenly you've got a new category. High Noons even tapped into tequila seltzers (they’re great btw).

Did Miller's tiger inspire the White Claw name? Probably not. But it's fun to think it did.

Source: Vinepair

Timmy is 8 years old. He saved allowance for weeks. Finally, his dad takes him to Target to buy some Pokémon booster packs.

The shelf is empty.

Why? Because some unemployed cave goblin bought all 50 packs at 6am to flip on eBay for triple the price. Buddy, if you can wake up at 6am to scalp Pokémon cards, you can get an actual job.

Look, I get it. You thought you were gonna be a millionaire trading crypto. You bought three monitors just to not understand what happens on three screens instead of one. You triple leveraged Solana at $250 and now you are posting on reddit everyday telling everyone Solana will hit $5000 in 2026.

Just leave the Pikachus alone, man. 

But obviously this isn't you, right?

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