We Tried the Coldest Cold Plunge in the U.S., Which Is Now Open in NYC
Don’t say we’re not brave.
New York City exists in extremes. The coolest bars and most-Instagrammed landmarks are contrasted by the tiniest apartments and tallest piles of sidewalk trash. And now joining these radicalized ranks is the coldest cold plunge in the US.
First started in Toronto in 2022, the spa experience behind the 32-degree dip is called Othership, a self-described “pleasure palace, that combines socializing with a wellness quotient,” according to Toronto Life.
The new NYC location in Manhattan is like a holistic Soho House. Found behind a subdued exterior on a busy Flatiron block, Othership is 7,000 square feet of wellness space featuring eight of the coldest commercial ice baths in North America, a three-tiered sauna (that can reach temperatures up to 190 degrees Fahrenheit), an amphitheater-style tea room, upscale locker rooms, and sleek showering area (for pre- and post-ice baths).
What sets Othership apart from other self-care sanctuaries—in addition to design features like a James Turrell-esque lighting installation and the four-person ice bath tubs—is its guided wellness experiences that combine elements of breathwork, aromatherapy, mindfulness, live music and singing, and group reflections. The more than 30 classes are categorized as Up, Down, or All Around, which relay what the sessions focus on like rejuvenation, decompression, or emotional resonance. Clientele can choose to drop in on a class-by-class basis at $135 for three classes or opt for a membership, which start at $51 per month or $396 per year. Memberships also include unguided free time within the facility.
I normally get my mental and physical euphoria from hot yoga, pilates, long Bala Bangle walks, and a sound bath or meditation here and there, so I decided a session at Othership could be a viable addition to the rotation.
That being said, getting to Flatiron at 7:30 am felt like a Herculean feat. Subscribing to the whole “early bird gets the worm” thing is still better in theory than in practice at the moment. Nevertheless, I persisted and with a half-eaten banana in hand, I arrived at the still dimly lit 20th Street for my first Sound Immersion class at Othership.
After checking in, I was shown to the locker rooms, where the other participants and I changed into our bathing suits, covered ourselves with gray and terracotta towels, and stowed our belongings into lockers (including phones and smart watches since Othership is a tech-free zone). We then entered the tea room, poured ourselves herbal beverages, and staggered along the benched seating. As the room slowly filled up, I chatted with a group of women, all of us in our 20s, about our summer travel plans and tattoos (or lack thereof).
A few minutes after the half-hour, we received our introduction to Othership and met our session leader, an ethereal blonde named Ashley, who emanated an earthy calm that felt improbably grounded for the streets of New York City.
From there, all 30 or so of us were led into the sauna to begin the first segment of class: heat. Choosing between three levels of the wooden sauna seating—the higher, the hotter—we settled into the already balmy room. Over the next 30 minutes, Ashley led us in five stages of sauna work that included collective breathwork, humming, harmonizing, singing, and all-out screaming. As if strengthened by each other's courage (or stubbornness) not one participant stepped out, even as temperatures reached scorching levels.
Stumbling out of the heat, we rinsed off and entered the second segment of class: cold. As a preface, I’d only done a cold plunge a couple of times in my life and none nearly as cold as 32 degrees. Although I’d been excited about this portion of class, the minute we entered the room I felt my, well, cheeks clench. Ashley demonstrated a deep breath-in followed by a loud “shh” breath-out—a practice that would dissuade hyperventilation when we entered the water.
I got in fast. The cold immediately stung my skin. It felt similar to hundreds of needles piercing my body. As my breath became increasingly ragged, our session leader coached me back down to the steady in and out. Around halfway through I’d lost most feeling in my hands and feet, but in no world was I going to quit before the two minutes were up. Staring off into the distance and focusing on my breath, I successfully stayed in until time was called. We were then instructed to raise our arms above our head to help circulation and body temperature regulation.
We wrapped up the morning back in the sauna. After a quick mediation, Ashley opened up the floor for participants to share what came to mind during the session. Earnest contributions included how they appreciated this as a break from grieving the recent passing of their mother to realizing that they wanted to be more present for their children on a daily basis. I became aware of how far I’d been feeling from myself, a pattern of disconnection which, because of that morning, I’ve begun to repair. That with a side of gratefulness.
After my rather intense morning, it's no longer a mystery why Othership has commanded a cult-like following in Canada. It’s uncommon to find a community that bonds people through self-inflicted sober suffering. It’s even more unusual to realize that no one is actually suffering. Everyone’s chasing that thrill or moment of clarity that comes after the discomfort.
Bettering oneself isn’t all pain or all pleasure. And if we’re going by Othership’s practices, maybe transcendence is reached somewhere right in the middle.