Issue #36: I tried a Sanctum class, and I liked it
A weekly dose of tidbits, spanning food, recipes, health, wellness, fitness, nutrition, destinations, books, advice, ideas and musings. Let’s spark conversation.
to watch
It’s no Selling Sunset, but Owning Manhattan is a bit of fun all the same. The Manhattan office is, like, twenty times bigger than the boutique O group. I think that means they have to clamour even more loudly to get a precious piece of the pie. These people aren’t just selling houses - they’re selling themselves, and it’s bloody ruthless. My introverted self cannot quite fathom how extroverted everyone is. Sometimes, I think to make it in this world, you’ve got to be part charismatic actor, part [whatever your job title is].
to read
The Glow by Jessie Gaynor. This book had me in its throes from the get go. I caught myself reading quotes aloud to Christian for the entirety of an evening. Two faves:
“She knew that in order to be a participant in capitalism rather than solely a victim of it, she had to have something to sell, but she didn’t believe in her own viability as a product and had no ideas for better ones.”
“reFaun was an at-home fecal transplant kit marketed—like all of Relevancy’s products—to the upper-middle-class millennial woman who was her own hobby.”
This book ticks so. Many. Boxes. A desperate PR girl drowning in medical debt. A holistic yet creepy wellness retreat. An enigmatic spiritual leader, who everyone wants to be loved by. I like to think the author is gloriously unhinged, yet so unbelievably in touch with the world, because her characters say and do all the things that you imagine only the worst in society would say and do. The story is wildly entertaining, but my favourite part was entering the mind of the author, and delighting in all she observes about this modern, messed up phenomenon.
to drink
I don’t think I’ve yet experienced a warm summer evening this year, and all of a sudden it’s 30 degrees. I call this drink, a poor man’s kombucha. It’s refreshing, a bit funky, and lip smackingly sour. It’s just sparkling water, with a dash of apple cider vinegar and a big squeeze of lime, over ice. I drink it all summer long (so, for the next two weeks).
I follow someone on Instagram who started going to an exercise class in London that coloured me intrigued. It was the setting that grabbed me. Yoga mats were lined up in a church, each with a pair of blue lit headphones at the head. The S on either side stands for Sanctum. Down the rabbit hole I went.
Sanctum is the brainchild of a couple from the Netherlands, and its popularity blew up in Ibiza, the island of choice for the spiritually elite. They have a partnership with Six Senses Ibiza, where they host classes on a cliff edge.
The concept is an hour long class, combining kundalini yoga (nope, me neither), primal movement, HIIT and breathwork. Like a silent disco, attendees are cocooned in their own little world, free to yelp and shout to their heart’s content, any self-consciousness banished by the protective headphones. A miked up instructor leads the class, talking you through the moves and whispering sweet affirmations as the beats alternately soar and slow. The playlist is fun. I don’t party in Tulum (obvs), but that’s very much the vibe.
To my delight, Sanctum weren’t only hosting pop up classes in that stunning church in South Kensington, but in Shoreditch too. I booked two tickets, didn’t tell Christian any of the details, and turned up at St Michael’s and All Angels last Sunday morning, ready for what exactly? I had no idea.
From my insta snooping, the turnout in pristine, upmarket South Ken was at least tenfold greater than in edgy, grimy Shoreditch. Of the twenty mats that were laid out, only six were ultimately occupied. I heard the three Sanctumites whisper to each other, “Where is everyone?” I felt concerned for the future vibe of the class. Without fifty people filling the vast space, would anybody be able to “let go?” Part of the appeal was the anonymity, and we six were painfully on show.
Having read of Sanctum’s exclusive appeal in a brilliant recent review, I’d excitedly told Christian to keep his eyes peeled for minor celebs among the rows. What foolish wishful thinking. We were pitifully few.
Two Sanctumites ceremoniously walked down the aisle in tandem, carrying burning incense to signal the start of the class. It reminded me of the weekly eucharist in the chapel at my very religious boarding school.
The class itself got my heart rate up super high. It started off with a kind of dance, side squatting and swooping your upper body low to high, shaking your arms to the signature Sanctum ‘hah!’ sound. It felt supremely silly, a little hectic, but sometimes a whole body shakeout is exactly what you need to fire up a little energy.
There was a burpee set, a set with break dancers (my least favourite ‘primal’ move, as a tall person), and lots of jumping, arm flinging, and ‘hah!’-ing.
My least favourite part was during a peaceful resting period, when a spiritual American man started to give a speech over EDM music. I enjoy hearing inspiring speeches that stir you, but this one used completely misplaced scientific terms that made zero sense in this context. It’s not okay to bamboozle people into thinking your message is profound and meaningful so that they join your cult. This part threw me out of my somewhat blissful zen state.
This review would not be complete without Christian’s appraisal. We shared our hot takes over acai bowls afterwards (we seriously did), and here are some stand out quotes that I committed to memory/immediately wrote in my notes.
“It was just a HIIT class where in the rest periods, you’re dancing.”
“I felt like a lemming, who’d been stripped of every bit of identity I’ve ever had, surrounded by a bunch of lost women.” (Harsh but quite possibly true).
“I’d rather have been doing anything else. I’d rather have been chopping wood.”
I felt a bit rattled when I stepped out from the £35 class to see an ambulance roar past, stop, and a bunch of paramedics flood out, who were probably doing 12 hour shifts, without easy access to healthy food, and not being paid enough. The people who would benefit the most from mindfulness and self-care and wellness and focusing on healing themselves, don’t have the time, nor the money. Sanctum is the perfect antidote for the ‘worried well’, who, like in The Glow, see themselves as their own biggest project. Working on yourself is all well and good, but what you then do with that improved version, and how you give back, is what matters most.
Will you be giving a Sanctum class a go if it rolls around to a church near you? Let me know in the comments section below.