In March, the line to enter MNT, a new pilates and coworking space in the Marina that bills itself as San Francisco’s “first wellness social club,” wrapped around the block. Studios specializing in the low-impact workout known as reformer Pilates are practically part of San Francisco’s DNA at this stage, but MNT promises something different: Alongside those spicy, thigh-burning classes, it offers a multitude of amenities, including an infrared sauna, private phone booths, monitor rentals, Dyson Airwraps in the restrooms, and even $15-a-visit babysitting sessions on weekends. 

Every element of the design was undertaken to maximize one thing: human interaction. There are no individual desks, just communal coworking tables. “You’re eye to eye with someone, and suddenly you’re talking,” said Barbara Mighdoll, 35, a tech marketer turned MNT founder. “The idea is that it’s not just a workout — it’s where you meet your people.”

This “work meets wellness” hybrid is new for San Francisco, but the broader category of so-called social wellness clubs has been booming in tech hubs, with Remedy Place in Los Angeles, The Well in Miami, and Othership in Toronto. McKinsey valued the U.S. wellness market (health, sleep, and fitness) in 2024 at $480 billion, noting that the sector is growing by 5%-10% annually. And MNT — short for “Move, nourish, transform” — is a natural evolution for San Francisco, a city with more than 16 fitness and wellness facilities per square mile, according to Mindbody, a workout booking platform — the highest density in the U.S.  

The shift caters to millennials and Gen Zers who are aging out of the party-all-the-time phase and entering something calmer. Paired with the rise of remote work, the trend has cracked open a deep-seated, pandemic-fueled hunger among urban dwellers for more “third spaces” — not home, not work, but someplace in between. 

Mighdoll opened MNT for these very people, who are increasingly exhausted, lonely, and looking for connection. She certainly was. As the mom of a 5- and 3-year-old, she found that every moment she devoted to herself felt transactional. Coworking was impersonal, and community was almost impossible to find. “Where is the space that actually serves women like me?” she asked. So, she built it. “It’s about finding tiny pockets in your day for wellness.”

To find my own tiny wellness pocket, I spent a recent morning at MNT, sandwiched between a Pressed Juicery and a Palmetto Superfoods on Union Street. The walls were painted cornflower-blue, the accents were gold, and the chairs and tables looked straight out of a CB2 catalog. Though the studios are open to all genders, the majority of customers are women. By 9 a.m., 11 women, dressed in shades of oatmeal, ecru, and ash gray, with some Sezane sweaters in the mix, were tapping away on their Macs and making calls in the phone booths. At 11 a.m., I headed downstairs for a reformer class (athletic flow, classical style). Afterward, I joined the ladies to work on my computer.

Even with some thumps from the upstairs offices interrupting the coworking (soundproofing is in progress) it was a surprisingly calm and effortless experience. If I hung out here long enough, I could see myself befriending some of the regulars. “I’ll see them chatting and ask, ‘How do you two know each other?’” Mighdoll said. “And they’ll say, ‘Oh, we met here.’”

That craving for connection isn’t minted only at MNT. Jared Seidel’s biweekly Plunge Party, a roving cold dip and sauna pop-up that he launched last summer, is a playful — and painful — twist on the getting-well-together trend. “You can stay in longer when you’re suffering with someone else,” he said. “The community suffers together.” Indeed, one of his plunge tubs seats eight people; past venues include a coworking garden in Cow Hollow and a friend’s Marina backyard.

The shared struggle bonds people, says Seidel, 31. In fact, that is the point. “I want it to hurt so good,” he said. “Afterward, you’re tingly, and you feel incredible.”  

When he moved to SF from San Diego last year, he, too, found it hard to make friends. But after a few months of cold-plunging in the bay by Crissy Field, he purchased a tub, a pop-up sauna, and rubber-ducky thermometers for maintaining 40-degree water temperatures, then launched his communal plunge company. “The point is bringing awesome people together in a way that’s not centered around partying or alcohol,” he said. He gets around 50 people per party, and there’s a core crew of six to eight who always show up and grab lunch or go to yoga afterward. “It’s a great way to start your Sunday — somehow ritualistic,” Seidel said.

The social wellness wave has even hit sports that have historically been limited to two or four people, like tennis. In 2024, Prince Boucher, 40, founded Mission Athletic Club, a free, volunteer-run tennis group that now counts more than 1,500 members. “Traditional tennis can feel pretty country club-ish,” said Boucher. “I wanted to bring a different kind of culture — for people wanting to play more casually.”

Most events center around Liveball, a fast-paced doubles format that rotates players constantly, making it easy to meet new people and play, regardless of skill level. The club has “First Volleys” programs to onboard new members, Volleys & Vibes for all levels, Vibras & Voleas for Spanish-speakers, and even apres-tennis mansion parties.

There’s some romance (one couple got engaged on court, with the ring hidden inside a tennis ball), but friendship is the focus. “It’s cool seeing the community becoming friends,” said Boucher, noting that some Live Ballers spend holidays together. About 70% of members play twice a week, he said.

Even legacy social clubs have pivoted to wellness. The Modernist, a ​​$2,000-per-year social club on the Embarcadero that opened in 2015, has evolved from a nightlife hub to a wellness-focused community. “We revolve around our members’ interests, and that’s shifted to health and longevity… plus some AI and Web3 stuff,” cofounder Albert Chen said. “Our focus now is primarily on venture and longevity.”  

The shift is partly generational. Many of The Modernist’s 600-plus members have been with Chen since his early days at networking events. They’ve aged — and evolved — together, moving from bottle service to biohacks. “We’re at the longevity stage now,” he said. 

Mighdoll echoed that. “We’re trying to build a lifelong community,” she said. “That social piece is really important for people’s health.”

That resonates with Karrie Larson, 32, a former Golden State Warriors dancer turned account director at telehealth startup Better Help. In 2022, she founded Serving Sundays, a biweekly social wellness club, so she could connect with people similarly obsessed with personal development.

In 2023, she hosted her first wellness crawl along Union Street in the Marina. “[We] take the pub-crawl concept and flip it,” she said. A $30-$45 ticket might get you a yoga class at Equinox, a breathwork session at Neon Workspace, and zero-proof cocktails at The New Bar. “We don’t need the social lubricant of alcohol if we boost dopamine in other ways,” she said.

About 30% of attendees return regularly, and connections run deep. “It’s like five coffee chats in one experience,” she said. “People skip the small talk and go straight into the real stuff. To feel seen in this version of yourself — that’s so important.”