Lifestyle

12 energetic and restorative wellness activities in L.A., one for every month of the year

Published

1 year ago

January 1, 2025

12 energetic and restorative wellness activities in L.A., one for every month of the year

This stands to be an interesting year — if not a potentially stressful one — as we transition leadership in this country. Just remember to care for yourself.

With that top of mind, here’s a calendar of wellness activities, each tied to the mood and cadence of the month. There’s a high-energy trampoline fitness routine, an affordable facial, a supermoon hike, a sound bath in a dome designed for time travel and more.

Feel free to mix up the order of these activities (hey, do them all in January, if you want!) or simply use them as inspiration to chart your own wellness path. But do prioritize self-care this year to stay healthy, grounded and strong.

January: Roast on salt rocks, soak in hot water and shed your skin

Los Angeles has a rich Korean bathhouse culture. But my favorite — and I’ve tried them all — is Wi Spa. The spa is open 24/7, for starters, and has a coed floor with five progressively hot saunas (one offers “salt therapy”; another, “medicinal” clay). There’s a wall-length bookshelf of loaner manga, a rooftop terrace and a surprisingly good Korean cafe (try the spicy buckwheat noodles or the shaved ice with red beans, fresh fruit and ice cream). The soaking tubs and saunas are included with the cost of entry. But consider adding on a scrub and sloughing off a layer or two of skin — it’s my favorite way to enter the new year. I always leave feeling rejuvenated, not to mention just a little bit lighter. ($30 entry)

February: Consult a tarot reader

Melinda Lee Holm wears a black T-shirt and displays one heavily tattooed arm.

Valentine’s Day may be consumerist crap, but it’s inescapable — chocolate, flowers and dating app ads abound! It’s hard not to think about the state of your love life in February. Whether you’re single and searching or coupled and working on things — or anywhere in between — why not get some guidance? Tarot reader Melinda Lee Holm, who’s based in L.A., has been reading cards for more than 30 years. She’s authored several books, most recently “Your Tarot Guide: Learn to Navigate Life With the Help of the Cards.” Contact her for a private reading or attend one of her free tarot readings, held weekly, on Instagram. She also performs staged versions of her Instagram Live events, for free, typically at the Philosophical Research Society. And she’ll be releasing a series of Instagram videos in 2025 about “love spells.” (Private session: $200; live events: free)

March: Enjoy a springtime tea ceremony

A woman in a kimono kneels next to a sliding shoji screen that opens to a pool surrounded by rocks

There’s no shortage of places to enjoy tea rituals in Los Angeles, including at Alhambra’s Tea Habitat, which offers a gong fu cha service, or the Arts District’s “tea meditation” space, Tea at Shiloh. But Yusuian takes it to the next level. The traditional Japanese tea room is situated on a cliff overlooking the ocean in Malibu. Guests sit on tatami mats with a view of a Japanese garden with a waterfall. Owner Yuko Uyesugi is an expert in the centuries-old Chado tea ceremony, which is the ritualistic preparation of green tea, meant to provide a relaxing break from everyday life. She holds classes there and, twice yearly, opens up the tea room for visits. Bonus: In spring, the garden is bright with flowers, and you may just find a cherry blossom on your plate of sweets. ($85 for a single visit; address upon RSVP)

April: Get heady

Reporter Deborah Vankin receives a Chinese scalp treatment, only the bottom half of her face visible.

April is tax season. Which equals one massive headache from — for me, anyway — poring over receipts. Even the score at a head spa. We visited both Japanese and Chinese head spas in the area. At both, the luxury treatment begins with a detailed scalp analysis followed by a neck and shoulder massage and repeated shampooings and conditionings. At Cai Xiang Ge in San Gabriel, the 60-minute, $95 treatment also includes a warm foot bath and a blowout over tea and sweets. At Head Spa En in Pasadena (there are also Beverly Hills and Newport Beach locations), the 60-minute, $150 treatment instead includes a slow, 35-minute Shiatsu head massage with a moisturizing scalp gel. Practitioners claim head spas aid circulation as well as detoxify and hydrate the scalp. Wherever you go, getting your noggin scrubbed for an hour is transformative — in both cases, I nearly fell asleep. Now that’s a worthy benefit. ($95 and $150)

May: Bounce

People in workout wear stand on low trampolines.

As the weather warms up and we look to summer, it’s a good time to restart (or just start) your fitness routine. Take a trampoline fitness class at LEKfit in Mid-City, Ritual Fitness in Highland Park or Trampoline Trim in Hollywood. Yeah, we know it’s all about strength training these days. But aerobic exercise is still crucial, and working out on a trampoline is low-impact. The studios actually use “Rebounders,” a type of mini-trampoline that has a gentler bounce than a large trampoline; it uses bungee cords instead of metal springs to better absorb impact, making the workout easier on your joints. The dance-like moves are good for coordination, balance and calorie-torching, and rebounding is said to stimulate the lymphatic system, which helps clear toxins from the body. All three studios incorporate elements of strength training, stretching and toning using bands and weights as well. Plus, there’s something to be said for pure, unadulterated, childlike play. (Trampoline Trim, $29; LEKfit and Ritual Fitness, $35)

June: Meditate

OK, we’re midway through the year. How are things going? Check in with yourself and meditate. Amid the hustle of summer vacations, barbecues and road trips, take some time out to get grounded. If you enjoy the community ritual of “sitting” en masse, my two favorite public meditation spaces are Insight L.A.’s Benedict Canyon retreat, which hosts ongoing meditation events, and the Hammer Museum’s Thursday afternoon Mindful Awareness Meditations. Insight L.A., a nonprofit, has a Santa Monica location and also holds overnight retreats with Big Bear Retreat Center. But its Benedict Canyon space is magical — a hillside haven filled with fruit trees, towering pines and fragrant lavender bushes. Its events are pay-what-you-can, with no one turned away for lack of funds. The Hammer’s free 30-minute meditations, co-presented by UCLA Health, are a dependable respite in the heart of Westwood. Meditations are livestreamed on the museum’s website too. (Free and by donation)

July: Rage

An angry-looking woman holding a large stick outside among tall trees.

July is hot. It’s crowded and trafficky in L.A. And you may still be reeling from the election (perhaps more so). If meditation didn’t do it for you, try a Rage Ritual. Intuitive advisor Mia Magik will hold several events in L.A. this month. One of them, on July 12, is a daylong retreat in the forest in Topanga. Among the many activities that day will be a Rage Ritual, during which participants collectively scream and thrash around enormous sticks as Magik guides them in releasing pent-up emotions. Or stop by one of L.A.’s Rage Rooms to unleash your fury. At both Rage Ground in downtown L.A. and the Break Room Los Angeles in Van Nuys, visitors don protective gear while smashing glass and ceramic objects. Really, truly friggin’ furious? At both establishments you can book a session to wreck an entire automobile — windows, doors, headlights and all. (Retreat: $150. Rage Ground, from $70 for 45 mins; Break Room Los Angeles, from $45 to $65 for 20 or 30 minutes)

August: Attend a transcendent ‘silent’ piano concert by the sea

Imagine the sun setting over Santa Monica Beach. There’s a large grand piano on the sand, surrounded by enormous upright sunflowers. Hundreds of attendees lie on blankets, wearing wireless headphones rimmed with aqua lights. As it gets darker, the lights glow brightly against the night sky. This is one of Murray Hidary’s MindTravel events, a fusion of live music and meditation — he’ll hold several in the L.A. area in late summer. The experimental music composer and mindfulness teacher performs on an electronic keyboard inside the sculpture of a grand piano, and the music is moving, an improvised mix of contemporary and classical that’s silent to passersby who aren’t wearing headphones. Each concert has a theme, which Murray riffs on, whispering into attendees’ headphones as he plays. The night I went in 2023, the theme was “Courage,” which one attendee had spelled out in candlelight on the sand. (Average: $100; check website for dates)

September: Trek to the desert for the ultimate sound bath

White mats in semicircles on the floor inside a wooden dome.

September always feels extra busy, with back-to-school activities and the shift to fall. Center yourself at the ultimate sound bath, a short road trip away near Joshua Tree. The Integratron, a “fusion of art and science,” is a ’50s-era wood dome that was designed to be an “electrostatic generator for the purpose of rejuvenation and time travel.” It’s situated in Landers in a spot in the desert that its architect, George Van Tassel, claimed is sparking with geomagnetic forces. You can take a deeply relaxing, mind-melding, hour-long sound bath in the dome. It includes a history of the building to start, followed by a live performance, on 22 quartz crystal singing bowls, by a sound healing artist. You may not travel back in time, exactly, but you will most likely be transported. ($58)

October: Worship the supermoon during a Griffith Park night hike

People walk in front of a rising supermoon at Griffith Observatory.

Oct. 7 is the date of the enormous, glowing Hunter’s moon this year. Watch it rise in the sky from the Griffith Observatory, which has free public telescopes as well as coin-operated ones. Or go DIY and view the moon from one of the park’s highest peaks, Mt. Hollywood, which we like to hike to from the Riverside trailhead at the Greek Theatre. Luckily, Oct. 7 is a Tuesday, which means the Sierra Club Angeles Chapter will be leading free night hikes, with groups divided by skill level. The hikes, which take place every Tuesday and Thursday evening year-round, barring rain, are roughly two hours long and leave at 7 p.m. from the park’s Upper Merry-Go-Round parking lot. The Hunter’s moon takes its name, in part, from its brightness — said to make hunting easier in the dark. No matter which peak you choose to view it from, it surely will illuminate your way. (Free)

November: Trek the length of Wilshire Boulevard

Participants fill Pershing Square during the 2018 Great Los Angeles Walk.

If moving our bodies, observing our environment and connecting in person with other people are tenets of wellness, then the Great Los Angeles Walk has it all. And this year marks its 20th anniversary. The event, started by journalist and walking aficionado Michael Schneider, has hundreds of Angelenos trekking the length of an iconic boulevard every November on the Saturday before Thanksgiving. Some join individually, others come in groups. Participants are encouraged to “go slow” and stop, repeatedly, along the roughly 14- to 16-mile journey, exploring the landmarks, public art and architecture that they’d otherwise speed past in a car. The event provides much-needed exercise before the holiday festivities, but it’s as much a social happening, bringing together a cross-section of the city. (Free)

December: Prepare for holiday parties with an affordable facial

L.A. Times reporter Amy Kaufman receives a facial.

The intimate, bohemian-feeling Raven Spa — with locations in Silver Lake and Santa Monica — doesn’t have a large menu of facials. But its signature Radiant Raven Facial is a solid deal in L.A., where facials run $150 to $300 on average (never mind the $1,400 oxygen facial at the Spa at Maybourne Beverly Hills!). The Raven’s is 60 minutes and $110. It’s a custom facial, tailored to your skin’s needs, and all the products used are paraben-free and cruelty-free. It includes a face steam, extractions and face massage along with a brief neck and shoulder massage while a moisturizing mask is being applied. Go ahead, put your best face forward for the holidays. ($110)

Lifestyle

It Started with a Midnight Swim and a Kiss Under the Stars

Published

1 hour ago

April 24, 2026

Press Room

It Started with a Midnight Swim and a Kiss Under the Stars

When Marian Sherry Lurio and Jonathan Buffington Nguyen met at a mutual friend’s wedding at Higgins Lake, Mich., in July 2022, both felt an immediate chemistry. As the evening progressed, they sat on the shore of the lake in Adirondack chairs under the stars, where they had their first kiss before joining others for a midnight plunge.

The two learned that the following weekend Ms. Lurio planned to attend a wedding in Philadelphia, where Mr. Nguyen lives, and before they had even exchanged numbers, they already had a first date on the books.

“I have a vivid memory of after we first met,” Mr. Nguyen said, “just feeling like I really better not screw this up.”

Before long, they were commuting between Philadelphia and New York City, where Ms. Lurio lives, spending weekends and the odd remote work days in one another’s apartments in Philadelphia and Manhattan. Within the first six months of dating, Mr. Nguyen joined Ms. Lurio’s family for Thanksgiving in Villanova, Pa., and, the following month, she met his family in Beavercreek, Ohio, at a surprise birthday party for Mr. Nguyen’s mother.

Ms. Lurio, 32, who grew up in Merion Station outside Philadelphia, works in investor relations administration at Flexpoint Ford, a private equity firm. She graduated from Dartmouth College with a bachelor’s degree in history and psychology.

Mr. Nguyen, also 32, was born in Knoxville, Tenn., and raised in Beavercreek, Ohio, from the age of 7. He graduated from Haverford College with a bachelor’s degree in political science and is now a director at Doyle Real Estate Advisors in Philadelphia.

Their long-distance relationship continued for the next few years. There were dates in Manhattan, vacations and beach trips to the Jersey Shore. They attended sporting events and discovered their shared appreciation of the 2003 film, “Love Actually.”

One evening, Mr. Nguyen recalled looking around Ms. Lurio’s small New York studio — strewed with clothes and the takeout meal they had ordered — and feeling “so comfortable and safe.” “I knew that this was something different than just sort of a fling,” he said.

It was an open question when they would move in together. In 2024, Ms. Lurio began the process of moving into Mr. Nguyen’s home in Philadelphia — even bringing her cat, Scott — but her plans changed midway when an opportunity arose to expand her role with her current employer.

Mr. Nguyen was on board with her decision. “It almost feels like stolen valor to call it ‘long distance,’ because it’s so easy from Philadelphia to New York,” Mr. Nguyen said. “The joke is, it’s easier to get to Philly from New York than to get to some parts of Brooklyn from Manhattan, right?”

In January 2025, Mr. Nguyen visited Ms. Lurio in New York with more up his sleeve than spending the weekend. Together they had discussed marriage and bespoke rings, but when Mr. Nguyen left Ms. Lurio and an unfinished cheese plate at the bar of the Chelsea Hotel that Friday evening, she had no idea what was coming next.

“I remember texting Jonathan,” Ms. Lurio said, bewildered: “‘You didn’t go toward the bathroom!’” When a Lobby Bar server came and asked her to come outside, Ms. Lurio still didn’t realize what was happening until she was standing in the hallway, where Mr. Nguyen stood recreating a key moment from the film “Love Actually,” in which one character silently professes his love for another in writing by flashing a series of cue cards. There, in the storied Chelsea Hotel hallway still festooned with Christmas decorations, Mr. Nguyen shared his last card that said, “Will you marry me?”

They wed on April 11 in front of 200 guests at the Pump House, a covered space on the banks of Philadelphia’s Schuylkill River. Mr. Nguyen’s sister, the Rev. Elizabeth Nguyen, who is ordained through the Unitarian Universalist Association, officiated.

Although formal attire was suggested, Ms. Lurio said that the ceremony was “pretty casual.” She and Jonathan got ready together, and their families served as their wedding parties.

“I said I wanted a five-minute wedding,” Ms. Lurio recalled, though the ceremony ended up lasting a little longer than that. During the ceremony, Ms. Nguyen read a homily and jokingly added that guests should not ask the bride and groom about their living arrangements, which will remain separate for the foreseeable future.

While watching Ms. Lurio walk down the aisle, flanked by her parents, Mr. Nguyen said he remembered feeling at once grounded in the moment and also a sense of dazed joy: “Like, is this real? I felt very lucky in that moment — and also just excited for the party to start!”

Lifestyle

L.A. Affairs: I loved someone who felt he couldn’t be fully seen with me

Published

2 hours ago

April 24, 2026

Press Room

L.A. Affairs: I loved someone who felt he couldn’t be fully seen with me

He always texted when he was outside. No call, no knock. It was just a message and then the soft sound of my door opening. He moved like someone practiced in disappearing.

His name meant “complete” in Arabic, which is what I felt when we were together.

I met him the way you meet most things that matter in Los Angeles — without intending to. In our senior year at a college in eastern L.A. County, we were introduced through mutual friends, then thrown together by the particular gravity of people who recognized something in each other. He was a Muslim medical student, conservative and careful and funny in the dry, precise way of someone who has always had to choose his words. I was loud where he was quiet, messy where he was disciplined. I was out. He was not.

I understood, or thought I did. I thought that I couldn’t get hurt if I was completely conscious throughout the endeavor. Los Angeles has a way of making you feel like the whole world shares your freedoms — until you realize the city is enormous, and not all of it belongs to you in the same way.

For months, our world was confined to my apartment. He would slip in after dark, and we’d stay up late talking about his family in Iran, classical music and the particular pressure of being the son someone sacrificed everything to bring here. He told me things he said he’d never told anyone, and I believed him.

The orange glow from my Nesso lamp lit his face while the indigo sky pressed against the window behind him. In our small little world, we were safe. Outside was another matter.

On our first real date, I took him to the L.A. Phil’s “An Evening of Film & Music: From Mexico to Hollywood” program. I told him they were cheap seats even though they were the first row on the terrace. He was thrilled in the way only someone who doesn’t expect to be delighted actually gets delighted — fully, without guarding it. I put my arm around his shoulders. At some point, I shifted and moved it, and he nudged it back. He was OK with PDA here.

I remember thinking that wealth is a great barrier to harm and then feeling silly for extrapolating my own experience once again. Inside Walt Disney Concert Hall, we were just two people in love with the same music.

Outside was still another matter.

In February, on Valentine’s Day, he took me to a Yemeni restaurant in Anaheim. We hovered over saffron tea surrounded by other young Southern Californians, and we looked like friends. Before we went in, we sat in the parking lot of the strip mall — signs in Arabic advertising bread, coffee, halal meats, the Little Arabia District — hand in hand. I leaned over to kiss him.

“Not here,” he said. His eyes shifted furtively. “Someone might see.”

I understood, or told myself I did, but I was saddened. Later, after the kind of reflection that only arrives in the wreckage, I would understand something harder: I had been unconsciously asking him to choose, over and over, between the people he loved and the person he loved. I had a long pattern of choosing unavailable men, telling myself it was because I could handle the complexity. The truth was more embarrassing. I thought that if someone like him chose me anyway — chose me over the weight of societal expectations — it would mean I was worth choosing. It took me a long time to see how unfair that was to him and to me.

We went to the Norton Simon Museum together in November, on the kind of gray Pasadena day when the 210 Freeway roars in the background like white noise. He studied for the MCAT while I wrote a paper on Persian rugs. In between practice problems, he translated ancient Arabic scripts for me. I thought, “We make a good team.” Afterward, we walked through the galleries and he didn’t let go of my arm.

That was the version of us I kept returning to — when the ending came during Ramadan. It arrived as a spiritual reflection of my own. I texted: “Does this end at graduation — whatever we are doing?”

He thought I meant Ramadan. I did not mean Ramadan.

“I care about you,” he wrote, “but I don’t want you to think this could work out to anything more than just dating. I mean, of course, I’ve fantasized about marrying you. If I could live my life the way I wanted, of course I would continue. I’m just sad it’s not in this lifetime.”

I was in Mexico City when these texts were exchanged. That night I flew to Oaxaca to clear my head and then, after less than 24 hours, flew back to L.A. No amount of vacation would allow me to process what had just happened, so I threw myself back into work.

My therapist told me to use the conjunction “and” instead of “but.” It happened, and I am changed. The harm I caused and the love I felt. The beauty of what we made and the impossibility of where it could go. She gave me a knowing smile when I asked if it would stay with me forever. She didn’t answer, which was the answer.

I think about the freeways now, the way Joan Didion called them our only secular communion. When you’re on the ground in Los Angeles, the world narrows to the few blocks around you. Get on the freeway and you understand the whole body of the city at once: the arteries, the pulse, the scale of the thing.

You understand that you are a single cell in something enormous and moving. It is all out of your control. I am in a lane. The lane shaped how I drive. He was simply in a different lane, and his lane shaped him, and those two facts can coexist without either of us being the villain of the sad story.

He came like a secret in the night, and he left the same way. What we made in between was real and complicated and mine to hold forever, hoping we find each other in the next life.

The author lives in Los Angeles.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.

Lifestyle

The Nerve Center of This Art Fair Isn’t Painting. It’s Couture.

Published

13 hours ago

April 23, 2026

Press Room

The Nerve Center of This Art Fair Isn’t Painting. It’s Couture.

The art industry is increasingly shaped by artists’ and art businesses’ shared realization that they are locked in a fierce struggle for sustained attention — against each other, and against the rest of the overstimulated, always-online world. A major New York art fair aims to win this competition next month by knocking down the increasingly shaky walls between contemporary art and fashion.

When visitors enter the Independent art fair on May 14, they will almost immediately encounter its open-plan centerpiece: an installation of recent couture looks from Comme des Garçons. It will be the first New York solo presentation of works by Rei Kawakubo, the brand’s founder and mastermind, since a lauded 2017 survey exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute.

Art fairs have often been front and center in the industry’s 21st-century quest to capture mindshare. But too many displays have pierced the zeitgeist with six-figure spectacles, like Maurizio Cattelan’s duct-taped banana and Beeple’s robot dogs. Curating Independent around Comme des Garçons comes from the conviction that a different kind of iconoclasm can rise to the top of New York’s spring art scrum.

Elizabeth Dee, the founder and creative director of Independent, said that making Kawakubo’s work the “nerve center” of this year’s edition was a “statement of purpose” for the fair’s evolution. After several years at the compact Spring Studios in TriBeCa, Independent will more than double its square footage by moving to Pier 36 at South Street, on the East River. Dee has narrowed the fair’s exhibitor list, to 76, from 83 dealers in 2025, and reduced booth fees to encourage a focus on single artists making bold propositions.

“Rei’s work has been pivotal to thinking about how my work as a curator, gallerist and art fair can push boundaries, especially during this extraordinary move toward corporatization and monoculture in the art world in the last 20 years,” Dee said.

Kawakubo’s designs have been challenging norms since her brand’s first Paris runway show in 1981, but her work over the last 13 years on what she calls “objects for the body” has blurred borders between high fashion and wearable sculpture.

The Comme des Garçons presentation at Independent will feature 20 looks from autumn-winter 2020 to spring-summer 2025. Forgoing the runway, Kawakubo is installing her non-clothing inside structures made from rebar and colored plastic joinery.

Adrian Joffe, the president of both Comme des Garçons International and the curated retailer Dover Street Market International (and who is also Kawakubo’s husband), said in an interview that Kawakubo’s intention was to create a sculptural installation divorced from chronology and fashion — “a thing made new again.”

Every look at Independent was made in an edition of three or fewer, but only one of each will be for sale on-site. Prices will be about $9,000 to $30,000. Comme des Garçons will retain 100 percent of the sales.

Asked why she was interested in exhibiting at Independent, the famously elusive Kawakubo said via email, “The body of work has never been shown together, and this is the first presentation in New York in almost 10 years.” Joffe added a broader philosophical motivation. “We’ve never done it before; it was new,” he said. Also essential was the fair’s willingness to embrace Kawakubo’s vision for the installation rather than a standard fair booth.

Kawakubo began consistently engaging with fine art decades before such crossovers became commonplace. Since 1989, she has invited a steady stream of contemporary artists to create installations in Comme des Garçons’s Tokyo flagship store. The ’90s brought collaborations with the artist Cindy Sherman and performance pioneer Merce Cunningham, among others.

More cross-disciplinary projects followed, including limited-release direct mailers for Comme des Garçons. Kawakubo designs each from documentation of works provided by an artist or art collective.

The display at Independent reopens the debate about Kawakubo’s proper place on the continuum between artist and designer. But the issue is already settled for celebrated artists who have collaborated with her.

“I totally think of Rei as an artist in the truest sense,” Sherman said by email. “Her work questions what everyone else takes for granted as being flattering to a body, questions what female bodies are expected to look like and who they’re catering to.”

Ai Weiwei, the subject of a 2010 Comme des Garçons direct mailer, agreed that Kawakubo “is, in essence, an artist.” Unlike designers who “pursue a sense of form,” he added, “her design and creation are oriented toward attitude” — specifically, an attitude of “rebellion.”

Also taking this position is “Costume Art,” the spring exhibition at the Costume Institute. Opening May 10, the show pairs individual works from multiple designers — including Comme des Garçons — with artworks from the Met’s holdings to advance the argument made by the dress code for this year’s Met gala: “Fashion is art.”

True to form, Kawakubo sometimes opts for a third way.

“Rei has often said she’s not a designer, she’s not an artist,” Joffe said. “She is a storyteller.”

Now to find out whether an art fair sparks the drama, dialogue and attention its authors want.