While standing in line for an iced Americano, I hear rumors of a new contender at a Hollywood fitness space that has opened dangerously close to my apartment. A man in front of me whispers. I wipe the drool off my chin and ask how it is possible to enter such a magical place.
Turns out he was talking about Heimat, a “fitness concept club”. Membership is by application only. In other words, send us your Instagram handle. On its sleek website, I learned that ‘Heimat’ is used in German to describe ‘the familiar feeling of a place where the mind is at home’. And with the tagline, “There’s no place like Heimat,” given Oz is a ripped personal his trainer, it’s given to The Wizard of Oz.
Membership is $150/month for those under 25 (luckily) and $350/month for geeks like me (but when I joined, that fee was $250/month) . I did some quick mental math to decipher how many iced her Americanos I would need to sacrifice to offset this cost (too much),[適用]Click. I am her 29 year old gay and lonely in many ways. No time to waste.
Two days later I am touring the place. The email directs you to enter the back alley through the golden door. I’m Dorothy This is my yellow brick road. You walk into a dimly lit living room/lobby with open bookshelves and velvet furniture. There is a fireless fireplace and an alcohol free bar cart. A man in a disheveled pompadour introduced me to a pigtailed woman named Poopy who would be my guide.
I try my best to pose as someone who wants nothing so that Poupy can show me the kingdom. There is another cardio room. The design is undeniably sexy — high ceilings. Facilities are sophisticated. The walls are adorned with marble, mirrors, or murals, and the large windows offer breathtaking views of La Heise Blair traffic. “Oh wow!” I gasp.
Upstairs you’ll find changing rooms, a sauna, a spa, and a meditation room with daybeds and blankets (this is disrespectful, but due to its proximity to undressed men in various states, the sex room feels like). With machines and rooms for classes on the third floor, Heimat offers everything from boxing to heat yoga. The fourth floor is the building’s only public access floor, home to Michelin-starred chef Michael Mina’s restaurant Mother Tongue and a private rooftop pool. and a hot tub. The fifth and final floor is a gorgeous co-working space to ensure that non-existent scripts are completed.
When she took me back to the lobby, Poopy asked what I was doing. I inflated her title to impress her, but she has already said goodbye to me. The guy with the pompadour came back and, unprompted, told him I was considering switching from Equinox because Himat was so close to my apartment. This is not entirely true, when I go to Crunch, the air conditioner has been broken for months. Say thank you and wave to Poopy to avoid running into the golden door on your way home.
It’s about two weeks until I hear back from you. They love hard-to-find play. I disgustly open my e-mail—accepted! — Don’t waste your time reading DocuSign. When the total hits $550, including the registration fee (the amount I’ve never paid a gym in my life), I take a deep breath and pull out my credit card. I experience an almost perverse pleasure when typing and whispering numbers. myself”
Opened Grindr within the first five minutes of entering the facility as a new member. Knowing the ground is important. Sadly, the closest profile is her over 1,000 feet away, but don’t lose hope.
Jump while lifting and lowering the dumbbells. We try to act like we were born to be here, like we know where everything is. The place is almost completely empty. I have a feeling that at any moment the guards might take me outside and kick me or yell at me.
Nonetheless, I stick around. I come back dutifully every day, but soon realized that in my rush to be accepted, I had forgotten to ask a few questions. In order not to look like this, we are repeatedly inquiring with various staff. “Do you have a steam room?” No (catastrophic). “Is the pool water salt or chlorine?” Chlorine (2022?) “Can I bring guests?” Twice a year otherwise he passes for a day but he’s $100 (laughter).
Over the course of the week, I noticed more and more people were paying attention to the place. For the first time, the “necessary” machine was occupied and I had to wait my turn. I’m trying to book a Pilates class, but every class has a waiting list. On several occasions, I’ve come across influencers taking selfies in their bathrooms shirtless (backlit mirrors flatten their bodies to defend them). Each encounter is accompanied by a caption such as ‘I plan to spend all day here’ or ‘Who’s home in Soho?’ Katy Perry also shows up on the rooftop one night. I breathed a sigh of relief when she heard they were starting to limit membership.
I was invited to some members-only events with an email with the subject “Heimat Happenings”. At the first poolside ‘Golden Hour Session’, check in for a free IV (don’t ask me anything, just blindly stick your veins) and a free drink. I met a woman there. Being in Hollywood, where new restaurants and “concept spaces” seem to open every day, I’m confused, but the light is so bright in her eyes that I’ll allow it. , says he considered Soho House, but resented its meanness. She said, “People here are talking more enthusiastically.” And looking around, I have to agree. An eclectic mix of dazzling Angelenos, reveling in this almost untrue shared space.
I still want to hate you. Heimat is absolutely the best, from its exorbitant price to its flashy design to its wild rhetoric about self-actualization and community building. A bottle of water costs $7 and the staff wears golden shoes. Still, what scares me is that when I stop rolling my eyes, I realize I’m actually meeting new people and starting to feel, dare I say it, at home.
One Saturday, I stood alone at the pool. The attendant guides me to an open shade. “Chill house music” is played so loud that it’s impossible to remember and read, so reading an article on climate collapse and hearing “you stole my chair” My vision becomes blurry.
When I looked up, a man of my age was drenched and laughing. Excited — community? — and I swing upward with an apology. He assures me it’s okay, he’ll use the next chair. “I live here now,” he half-joked. As you can imagine, we decided to meet at Heimat. At Mother Tongue he has $18 cocktails. Because, at this point, why go anywhere else?