Lifestyle
A ‘floating’ tennis club with good vibes and a pinch of country club swagger? These Angelenos created it
Across the six players on the tennis court at noon on a Friday in Beverly Hills, I clock two Cartier watches and one Rolex. There’s tennis skirts paired with chunky cable-knit sweaters and white sneakers and tote bags with collegiate embroidery. From behind sunglasses and baseball caps, members appear to be in their mid-twenties to early thirties. But no matter how much the scene may resemble a legacy country club at first glance, this meetup exists almost in opposition to the city’s handful of expensive clubs with yearslong wait-lists and lengthy membership requirements.
Kacper Owsian greets someone to his Tennis Clinic in Beverly Hills.
(Emil Ravelo / For The Times)
This is Sunset Tennis Club, a membership-based tennis club that operates on a series of courts in upscale neighborhoods of Los Angeles. Founded in early 2023 by Anna and Kacper Owsian, the organization thinks of itself as a “floating tennis club,” said Anna, only without the barriers to entry that keep out many millennials and zoomers.
Once a couple, now business partners, Anna and Kacper immigrated to Los Angeles from Poland in late 2022. The pair met over a decade ago playing tennis in the city of Poznań, where Kacper, a former tennis pro, followed in his family’s footsteps coaching at a tennis club and Anna, who plays for fun, worked in the fashion and wellness industries. When the two moved to Los Angeles, they, like many recent transplants, struggled to find community. They used their mutual love of tennis as a way to make friends, setting a once-a-week date to play, followed by nights out for dinner and drinks. From there, the idea to start the club as a business was born.
Living in affluent Brentwood at the time, they were inspired by the aesthetics of country club life, even if they were unable to actually participate. Anna wanted to lend her experience in fashion to branding a tennis club that was “more than just a place to play, but the sport we love, reimagined for the new generation.” Kacper could teach. The first official Sunset Tennis Club started once a week in Beverly Hills, attended by a small group of friends of friends.
Sunset Tennis Club sells one-off clinics, or small group lessons separated by level. Kacper still teaches, but they also employ a handful of coaches. Despite its lack of a single brick-and-mortar location, the club runs on a membership model. Anyone who can afford to invest a few hundred dollars in their game is welcome to join instantly via the brand’s website. Membership is tiered, based on how often one wants to participate in clinics. Four beginner clinics a month runs $200, while attending 12 ranges from $480-540 depending on the member’s experience level. Add-on private lessons are available.
The club plays across six locations — including Beverly Hills, Hancock Park, and Brentwood — all of which are on private properties, accessed through the founders’ personal relationships.
Sunset Tennis Club has arrived in L.A. at a moment where racket sports are surging in popularity. According to a 2024 study by RacquetX, a conference for racket sport professionals, the category — which includes tennis, pickleball, squash, badminton and table tennis — has grown 30% since 2021. Tennis players in the U.S. jumped from 1.9 million players to 25.7 million players in 2024, its fifth consecutive year of growth according to the United States Tennis Association. The founders say that thus far in 2025, Sunset Tennis Club has hosted 1,000 players across its 25 weekly clinics and rotating events monthly.
Anna and Kacper Owsian host a Tennis Clinic in Beverly Hills.
(Emil Ravelo / For The Times)
Its growing membership may have as much to do with the sport of tennis as it does the fashion associated with it. Amanda Greeley, owner of racket sports fashion brand Spence, argues tennis’ increased popularity is a result of the photogenic nature, but also society’s desire for connection.
“Tennis looks good on Instagram, but I also believe it taps into something deeper: Tennis is social. In a world where so much fitness has become solitary — spin bikes, boot camps, apps — tennis offers real, in-person connection. It’s active and communal.”
Even if anyone can join Sunset Tennis Clubs, that doesn’t mean their events are entirely devoid of the old-money swagger often spotted on L.A. tennis courts. The organization operates “in the in between public courts and country clubs … something that’s approachable for people but at the same time a little bit more exclusive and more unique,” said Anna.
Anna Owsian at her Tennis Clinic
(Emil Ravelo / For The Times)
Outside of access to private courts, the feeling of exclusivity comes from the Sunset Tennis Club’s branding and membership, which tends to share an affinity for crisp tennis whites and beautiful watches. Sunset Tennis Club’s Instagram feed resembles that of a fashion brand. Influencers like Song of Style’s Aimee Song and Kardashian makeup artist Mary Phillips are known to frequent clinics. Beyond tennis lessons, membership includes access to social events that range from watch parties at boutique hotels to invites to private boxes at tennis tournaments. Recently, the club partnered with the apparel company FILA to gift members a tennis outfit and an invite to their private box suite at the high-profile BNP Paribas Open in the La Quinta desert, providing members with otherwise everyday lives a taste of the L.A. influencer life. Chelsea Ma, a 28-year-old producer who discovered Sunset Tennis Club through an Instagram ad, attends a clinic with the group once a week. She says she’s also made close friends through the club, some of whom she’s traveled with.
“I was already playing tennis once or twice a week, but I knew I wanted to get better,” Ma said. “It was difficult to find friends who wanted to play tennis on a regular basis [before joining] … The club is one of a kind. It taps into a lifestyle their members already live by but through the foundation of tennis.”
Much like your typical country club, there is a dress code at Sunset Tennis Club clinics: Tennis whites or all-black attire is required. At most courts, the group’s logo is displayed on nets and can be seen in the background of members’ carefully posed Instagram photos on the court. On the Friday that I visited in Beverly Hills, house music by Rufus du Sol played softly from a speaker as we practiced drills. Even with all those small details, the experience wasn’t exactly the Ritz. Members parked on the street, bathroom access varied court by court and there was no spot to grab a cobb salad afterwards. But aesthetically and tonally, whiffs of affluence are in reach for those who want a taste.
Under the glow of fluorescent lights at Seafood City market in North Hills, packages of pre-made adobo, salted shrimp fry and and dried anchovies glisten in meat coolers.
A DJ, dressed in a traditional barong, blasts a dance remix of Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” as a crowd gathers to take a shot of fish sauce together.
“That was disgusting!” a man shouts into the mic, flashing a grimacing expression.
At Seafood City, DJs 1OAK, left, EVER ED-E and AYMO spin in barongs, the Philippines’ national formal shirt.
The smells of lechon and lumpia float through the air. Smiling children munch on halo-halo (a Philippine dessert made with ube ice cream, leche flan and shaved ice). Flags of the Philippines wave in the air as a man in UCLA Health scrubs hops into the center of an energetic dance circle. Employees shoot store coupons out of a money gun and toss bags of Leslie’s Clover Chips into the crowd. Fathers hold their children on their shoulders as a group of college students perform a Tinikling routine, a traditional Philippine dance in which performers step and hop over and between bamboo poles.
“This is so Filipino,” a woman says, in awe of the scene.
Sabria Joaquin, 26, of Los Angeles, left, and Kayla Covington, 19, of Rancho Cucamonga hit the dance floor at “Late Night Madness” in North Hills.
“I came here for groceries,” explains an elderly man, adding that he decided to stay for the party.
Seafood City, the largest Philippine grocery store chain in North America, typically closes at 9 p.m. But on certain Friday and Saturday nights, its produce or seafood aisle turns into a lively dance floor for “Late Night Madness.” On social media, where the gathering has exploded, it looks like a multigenerational nightclub that could use dimmer lighting. But for attendees who frequent the store, it’s more than that. It’s a space for them to celebrate their Filipino heritage through food, music and dance in a familiar setting.
“This is something that you would never expect to happen — it’s a grocery store,” says Renson Blanco, one of five DJs spinning that night. He grew up going to the store with his family. “My mom would [put] us all in the minivan and come here, and she’d let us run free,” he adds. “It’s comfortable here. It’s safe here.”
1
2
3
1. Rhianne Alimboyoguen, 23, of Los Angeles follows an employee through the produce section. 2. Allison Dove, 29, left, and Andrea Edoria, 33, both of Pasadena, enjoy Philippine street food. 3. Katie Nacino, 20, left, Daniel Adrayan, 21, and Sean Espiritu, 21, of the Filipino American Student Assn. at Cal State Northridge, practice tinikling, a traditional Philippine folk dance, in an aisle.
The first Seafood City location opened in 1989 in National City, a suburb of San Diego, which has a nearly 20% Asian population including a rich Filipino community. For its founders, the Go family, the mission was simple: to provide a market where Filipinos and people within the diaspora could comfortably speak their native language and buy familiar products. It’s since become a community anchor. Of the nearly 40 locations in Northern America, at least half of them are based in California, which has the highest population of Asian Americans in the United States.
-
Share via
The first “Late Night Madness” event happened in September in Daly City, Seafood City’s newest location. The company wanted to launch a street food program at the store’s food hall in a fun and creative way.
The DJ played a selection of hip-hop, pop, soul and classic Pinoy records like VST & Company’s “Awitin Mo, Isasayaw Ko.” Hundreds of people showed up, and videos of people of all ages turning up in the popular supermarket spread like wildfire. So the company decided to continue hosting the event in October during Filipino American History Month and for the rest of the year. It’s since expanded to more locations around the country and in L.A., including Eagle Rock.
By 10 p.m. at the Seafood City in North Hills, at least 500 people are dancing in the produce section, next to rows of saba bananas, fresh taro leaves and bok choy. The lively crowd forms dance circles throughout the night, taking turns jumping in the center to show off their moves to songs like Earth, Wind & Fire’s “Let’s Groove,” “Nokia” by Drake and Justin Bieber’s “I Just Need Somebody to Love.” At one point, TikToker and artist Adamn Killa hops on the mic and says “If you a Filipino baddie, this is for you,” before doing his viral dance.
Among the Philippine street food offerings were pandesal sliders, lumpia-style nachos, lobster balls and various skewers.
A group of employees dance behind the counter as they serve hungry patrons who fill their trays with various Filipino street food including pandesal sliders (soft Philippine bread filled with adobo, lechon or longganisa) and Lumpia Overload (think nachos, but a bed of lumpia instead of tortilla chips), lobster balls and barbecue chicken skewers. (No alcohol is served.) Meanwhile, a few lone shoppers sprinkle into the store to get their weekly groceries as music blasts through the speakers.
First-generation Filipino American Andrea Edoria of Pasadena says “Late Night Madness” reminded her of the family parties she attended as a child in L.A. and in Manila, where her parents are from.
“Growing up as a child of immigrants, I was kind of self conscious about displaying too much of my culture,” she says between bites of spiral fried potato. She went to the Eagle Rock event with her mother last month as well. “So it kind of fed my inner child to see so many people celebrating this shared culture and experience that we each grew up [with].”
A multi-generational crowd is drawn to the dance floor. At center is Jade Cavan, 44, of Chatsworth.
Members of the Filipino American Student Assn. at Cal State Northridge perform a tinikling performance.
She adds, “I think it’s so important especially now at a time where our country is so divisive and culture is kind of being weaponized, I think it’s a beautiful reminder that we can come together and find something that unites us.”
About 10 minutes before midnight, the grocery store is still bustling with activity. A dance battle breaks out and people begin hyping up the young women. The DJ transitions into slower tracks like Beyoncé’s “Love on Top” and Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You.” The remaining folks sing along loudly as they walk toward the exit, smiles imprinted on their faces. Staff rush to clean up, then huddle together for group photos to memorialize the evening.
After the final song is played, employees rush to clean up the supermarket.
Patrick Bernardo, 34, of Van Nuys looks at the counter, where a man had been chopping lechon, before stepping outside.
“There’s barely anything left on that pig,” he says, pointing to it as proof that the night was a success.
Trump admin sues Illinois Gov. Pritzker over laws shielding migrants from courthouse arrests
New Wegovy pill offers needle-free weight loss — but may not work for everyone
NFL reporter responds to fake death rumor in hilarious fashion: ‘Glitch in the matrix’
Android Sound Notifications help you catch key alerts
Kevin Costner’s western ‘Horizon’ faces more claims of unpaid fees
Florida High School Football Rankings: Top 25 teams – Oct. 21
Cleary's 21 help Le Moyne down Central Connecticut State 69-64 in OT
How old is Bo Nix? What to know about Oregon quarterback ahead of 2024 NFL Draft
99th annual Pony Swim held in Virginia
Video: ‘It Didn’t Have to Happen This Way:’ U.Va. Faculty Call for Review of Police Response to Protests
Trump admin sues Illinois Gov. Pritzker over laws shielding migrants from courthouse arrests
Europeans show solidarity with Denmark after Trump’s Greenland threat
Explosion at a Pennsylvania nursing home kills at least 2, governor says
What does Christmas look like for Ukraine? | Global News Podcast
404 | Fox News
-
Iowa1 week agoAddy Brown motivated to step up in Audi Crooks’ absence vs. UNI
-
Maine1 week agoElementary-aged student killed in school bus crash in southern Maine
-
Maryland1 week agoFrigid temperatures to start the week in Maryland
-
New Mexico7 days agoFamily clarifies why they believe missing New Mexico man is dead
-
South Dakota1 week agoNature: Snow in South Dakota
-
Detroit, MI1 week ago‘Love being a pedo’: Metro Detroit doctor, attorney, therapist accused in web of child porn chats
-
Health1 week ago‘Aggressive’ new flu variant sweeps globe as doctors warn of severe symptoms
-
Maine7 days agoFamily in Maine host food pantry for deer | Hand Off