Connect with us

Lifestyle

Float therapy is all the rage. Could ‘dry floating’ really offer the same benefits?

Published

on

Float therapy is all the rage. Could ‘dry floating’ really offer the same benefits?

It was all a tad dystopian. I parked on a scalding day in late winter at an outdoor lot in downtown L.A. surrounded by corporate skyscrapers, the sidewalks lined with housing encampments. There was nothing distinct about the condo-like building Quantum Wellness is in — other than two welcoming Goliathan Buddha sculptures.

I entered into the spa’s glimmering white lobby to try their “zero body dry float,” a bed filled with 400 liters of heated water intended to create a weightless experience that alleviates pressure from the spine and joints and melts away stress. The beds are designed to mimic a traditional float tank — where a person is suspended in water filled with epsom salt, oftentimes in complete darkness — but the perk of these beds is there’s no need to get wet. At Quantum, the experience is 35 minutes long and costs $60.

Jeremy Hoffmann is the founder, CEO and owner of Quantum Wellness Spa.

(Dania Maxwell / For The Times)

Advertisement

“We really wanted to focus on calming people’s nervous systems down,” says Jeremy Hoffmann, the founder and CEO of Quantum Wellness Spa. “As far as the dry float goes, I think there’s very few pieces of technology that offer deep rest and restoration. It was a no-brainer.”

The spa offers everything from traditional services such as massages and facials to biohacking, IV drips and energy work. Inside it feels like it was built for a future where humans live underground, seeking to reconnect with what life was once like on Earth. Neon lights make the dark, cool hallway and rooms feel like you’re aboard a spaceship. Reserved moss and mycelium grow from a room with a crystal floor where I heard members vigorously doing breathwork. In the area with cold plunging and a sauna, the walls undulate with patterns that change color, designed to evoke arctic caves and volcanic rock.

At the front desk, I was greeted by a host who accompanied me down the hall and into a glowing cerulean room. “Do you have an intention?” he asked.

“Presence,” I answered.

Reporter Shelby Hartman prepares for her float experience.

Hartman prepares for her float experience at Quantum Wellness in downtown L.A.

(Dania Maxwell / For The Times)

Advertisement

I stepped over the frame of the bed and laid down on a plastic sheet. The host handed me a blindfold and Bose noise-canceling headphones, playing the hypnotic sounds of a space drum with birds chirping in the distance.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

Slowly, the host lowered me into the bed. I felt myself sink into the water, the warm fluid-filled plastic finding its way into all of my crevices.

Advertisement

“OK, time to relax,” I thought, taking a deep breath and audibly sighing out the day.

Almost immediately, much like in my morning meditation practice, I began to notice my frenetic, future-oriented thinking. What is the rest of my day going to look like? Maybe I’ll get Sweetgreen for lunch…

But, unlike in a meditation of the same length, at some point, my mind gave up its stubborn ruminations. I continually sighed (a sign my nervous system was downregulating), and I began to zone out to the repetitive sounds of the music. Before I knew it, the bed was rising again.

The experience was notably different from my time just a week prior at WellNest. The spa, open 24/7 in Pasadena, exclusively offers dry floating ($80 for an hour session).

A woman wearing a blindfold in a dry float tank at Quantum Wellness on Monday, Feb. 2, 2026, in Los Angeles

The experience involves wearing a blindfold and Bose noise-cancelling headphones which play soothing music.

(Dania Maxwell/For The Times)

Advertisement

Like Quantum, it also felt oddly futuristic. Ahead of arrival, I’d received a video that looked like a commercial for a healthcare company explaining how to find the building and check myself in. I escorted myself up a clunky metal utility elevator which opened into a warmly lit waiting room of beiges and pinks and a desk, both empty. If I had any questions, a person named Jane, my “Wellness concierge” whom I never met, texted me to let me know she was there to support me.

I let myself into the room and stepped into the bed, one foot at a time, the warm water inside the plastic sheet sloshing around and making me feel a bit wobbly. Unlike the bed at Quantum, I was not lowered down. Instead, some water filled in around me, but I didn’t feel a firmness that gave the sensation of being tightly held or suspended. In fact, it reminded me a bit of my childhood friend’s waterbed (fun, but not particularly therapeutic).

A woman's hand on a dry float bed

Wet or dry floating reportedly helps reduce short-term stress and anxiety.

(Dania Maxwell / For The Times)

Advertisement

Anthony S. Saribekyan, the founder and CEO of WellNest, says he decided to start a dry float business after discovering the wonders of traditional float tanks for his anxiety and stress. The main benefit, he says, of the dry float versus the normal float is the convenience of not having to shower before and after. Both types of floats, he says, contain 9000 pounds of epsom salt. Dry float tanks are also more ecologically friendly because the water is sealed inside the system and typically only replaced every several months to years, rather than being regularly drained and replenished.

So far, the data is limited on the efficacy of dry floating compared to wet floating. One small study found that both types of floating increase relaxation, but that wet floating is more therapeutic.

The float tank (or isolation tank) was invented in 1954 by an eccentric researcher named John C. Lilly, who believed that an experience void of sensory input (sound, light or even gravity) was the key to understanding the nature of human consciousness. Beginning in the ’70s and ’80s, research into the benefits of wet floating took off — and has continued since, with studies funded by the National Institutes of Health. Today, the strongest and most consistent finding about wet floating is that it helps reduce short-term stress and anxiety, even after one session. There’s also been studies, many of which are smaller and more preliminary, showing the benefits of floating for conditions such as insomnia, body image dissatisfaction among people with anorexia, meth dependence and pain intensity, such as the stress placed on the body after a high-impact workout.

Emily Choquette, director of the Torrance-based Float Clinic and Research Center, says she hypothesizes that some, but not all, of the benefits received during wet floating would be achieved with dry floating, too. In studies at the Float Clinic and Research Center, Choquette says they use a zero-gravity chair — which is different from a dry float, but similar in that it creates a suspended feeling without a person being immersed in water. They’ve found the chair to be effective for many of the same conditions as wet floating, but, generally, it doesn’t seem to have as noticeable of an improvement on affect.

At least when it comes to wet floating, Choquette says, there’s enough research now that she’d like to see insurance companies cover it as an adjunct treatment for anxiety, in conjunction with therapy. As for everyone else, she sees it as a beneficial tool for a person’s wellness routine, much like yoga or meditation, something to help us reset amid the “constant bombardment of external feedback.”

Advertisement

As I emerged from the cavernous womb of Quantum and back out into the sprawling urban development, I had to admit: I did feel lighter, like my stress had been dialed down a few notches. Unlike before, when I had been rushing to my appointment, I walked a bit more slowly, cherishing the sun as it grazed my skin. Was it better than the reset I get after a massage in the San Gabriel Valley or a hike in the Angeles National Forest? It’s hard to say after one session, but it seems worth another visit.

A woman in a dry float tank.

Hartman tried two different locations for a dry float experience: one at WellNest and one at Quantum Wellness Spa, where she is pictured.

(Dania Maxwell / For The Times)

Advertisement

Lifestyle

‘The Wire’ Star Bobby Brown Dispatch Audio From Fatal Barn Fire

Published

on

‘The Wire’ Star Bobby Brown Dispatch Audio From Fatal Barn Fire

‘The Wire’ Star Bobby J. Brown
He’s Trapped Inside Barn Fire!!!
Listen To Dispatch Audio

Published

Advertisement

Advertisement

Continue Reading

Lifestyle

Our favorite movies on Tubi : Pop Culture Happy Hour

Published

on

Our favorite movies on Tubi : Pop Culture Happy Hour

Ryland Brickson Cole Tews in Hundreds of Beavers.

Hundreds of Beavers


hide caption

toggle caption

Advertisement

Hundreds of Beavers

The streaming service Tubi has become a repository for a wild assortment of movies, TV shows, and original properties. They’re all free to watch, provided you’re willing to sit through some ads. So we asked some Tubi-philes to recommend some great movies that you can find on the service: Hundreds of Beavers, Color Out of Space, Petey Wheatstraw, and Mambo Italiano.

Follow Pop Culture Happy Hour on Letterboxd at letterboxd.com/nprpopculture

Advertisement
Continue Reading

Lifestyle

Got problems? Let L.A. comedians give you live ‘therapy’ at this confessional-style show

Published

on

Got problems? Let L.A. comedians give you live ‘therapy’ at this confessional-style show

The doctors are in — and they’re funny.

Tucked near a Mobil gas station and a Harbor Freight Tools on Hollywood Boulevard, this is one of the highest-energy live comedy shows in town. Or maybe it’s the most comedic of therapy sessions in town. Or both.

Comedian Mina Quarterman (@minaquarterman) performs her set at Coffee Confessionals in Hollywood.

Advertisement
  • Share via

Advertisement

Welcome to “Comedy & ‘Therapy,’ ” a monthly event at the cafe Coffee Confessionals, in which comedians on stage dispense advice to audience members in the crowd. It’s far simpler than navigating your patient portal. After buying a $16 entry ticket — no deductible — audience members have the option of scribbling an anonymous confession or a personal dilemma onto a piece of paper before dropping it into a box.

Each show features six comedians — three who perform straight comedy sets and three who serve as “therapists” for the evening. The therapists each draw a submission from the box, then read it to the audience before scanning the crowd and inviting the participant up on stage to the therapy couch.

Hilarity then ensues — and it’s interactive. After the comedian riffs with the “patient,” the audience weighs in on the issue with green and red “thumbs up/thumbs down” paddles, often yelling out comments or directly querying the participant. The action is punctuated by booming sound effects — canned applause, the “wah-wah” of a sad trombone and a hyperactive electronic buzzer, among them — coming from a trigger-happy soundboard operator behind the coffee counter.

Advertisement

“Recently, a friend’s girlfriend told me she had a dream I got her pregnant,” comedian Chris Collins reads, after drawing from the box. “Well, if she’s not into me, she’s having second thoughts about marrying him. Do I tell him?” (Ooohs and aaahs from the audience.)

Audience member Matthew Robinson, 36, hides his face with his paddle before finally heading up to the stage.

“Well, if you’re thinking about telling him you kind of have to now because this is on camera,” comedian Collins tells him. “This is gonna be out there forever!” (No pressure.) Robinson chuckles as canned laughter from the soundboard fills the room.

Crowdmembers casts their votes during comedy set at Coffee Confessionals.

Crowdmembers casts their votes during comedy set at Coffee Confessionals.

Comedian Chris Collins (@chrisco11ins)

Comedian Chris Collins (@chrisco11ins)

Advertisement

“Give a thumbs up if you think he should tell his friend,” Collins later urges the crowd.

“Yeeaaah,” most of them yell, waving their green paddles in the air.

“Nooo,” comes a shout from the back of the room, a solo red paddle wiggling.

“One toxic guy in the back says don’t tell him!” Collins quips, as the room erupts in real human laughter.

“It’s a fun event,” says Coffee Confessionals owner Jing Lin. “But there is a genuineness to it. We’re not calling people up on stage to make fun, it’s really to help them through their problems.”

Advertisement

Robinson said, later in the evening, that his “therapy session” was actually helpful.

“That was something that gave me anxiety recently and it feels good to have everyone say ‘No, you should tell him.’ It was kind of a relief.”

Lin says she opened Coffee Confessionals in 2024 because she wanted to create community around coffee, conversation and the sharing of vulnerabilities. (There’s a neon sign in the window that says “Spill Your Beans.”) Lin missed the coffee culture of New York, where she’d moved to L.A. from, and has long had an affinity for coffee shops — she studied filmmaking in college and coffee shops are where she feels most creative, often spending afternoons there sipping a drip coffee while writing.

Shop owner Jing Lin sits post-show at Coffee Confessionals.

Shop owner Jing Lin sits post-show at Coffee Confessionals.

After about a decade working in marketing at NBCUniversal, Lin left the job during COVID in 2020 and hatched plans to open “a different kind of coffee shop.”

Advertisement

“I thought a lot about how to bring people together: How do you make a new friend, a new acquaintance, without just talking about the weather?” she says. “It’s really when you connect on a deeper level, when you’re revealing something. Those stories are what bring people closer together because you find ‘oh my God, I can really relate to what this person is going through.’ So I wanted to build a shop to get to those deeper conversations.”

Lin leaves stacks of “conversation cards” featuring icebreaker questions on the tables at Coffee Confessionals, to help prompt connection between strangers or for those on first dates. “What makes a good lasting marriage?” reads one; “Where do you see yourself five years from now, 10 years from now?” reads another. There’s also a “spill your beans confessional board,” where visitors can anonymously respond to prompts.

In addition to “Comedy & ‘Therapy,’ ” the coffee shop also hosts open mic nights, art walks and networking panels, among other events. For the comedy show, Lin says she’s mindful about booking a diverse group of comedians, with a cross-section of ethnic and LGBTQ+ backgrounds, as well as a mix of emerging and established performers.

Janelle Marie (@iamjanellemarie) assumes the role of host for the evening's "Comedy and 'Therapy.' "

Janelle Marie (@iamjanellemarie) assumes the role of host for the evening’s “Comedy and ‘Therapy.’ ”

Coffee Confessionals is admittedly small but cozy, with hardwood floors, bountiful string lights and just a few cafe tables inside. But that’s part of why the “Coffee & ‘Therapy’ ” show works. With about 35 audience members the night I attended, the tiny coffee shop felt packed, with standing room only in the back. The vibe was festive, social and playfully raucous — more impromptu living room performance among friends than comedy club.

Advertisement

Comedian Janelle Marie, who served as the evening’s MC, says the configuration of the room is an asset to her as a performer.

“It’s a very intimate space,” she says. “As a comedian standing up there you’re able to look out and see everyone and do crowd work and really connect with people.”

Even the straight comedy sets, sans interactive therapy, were shot through with intimate admissions, albeit humorous ones.

Olivia Xing, who is “made in China,” as she says, riffed on why she married her husband.

“I married him because he’s Mexican and I just know if ICE comes to get me, they’d get him instead. So I feel safe.”

Advertisement
Comedian Jordan Conley (@loljordancon1ey) offers some therapy advice during his set with randomly-selected crowdmembers.

Comedian Jordan Conley (@loljordancon1ey) offers some therapy advice during his set with randomly-selected crowdmembers.

The golden box of crowd-submitted confessions that comedians scoured through to incorporate during their interactive sets.

The golden box of crowd-submitted confessions that comedians scoured through to incorporate during their interactive sets.

Toward the end of the evening, there was an unexpected confessional.

“I farted in the supermarket,” comedian Jordan Conley read from a piece of paper he’d drawn from the box.

Suddenly, a tall, lithe woman in a long overcoat stood up and made her way to the stage. The increasingly hilarious exchange between Conley and 27-year-old Nicky Marijne covered the basics (Which aisle? Produce. Audible or not? No.) But despite the absurdness of the topic, the conversation was not without therapeutic insight.

Advertisement

Marijne had come to the show “just for fun” and submitted her confession as a joke, she told The Times later. But the on-stage interaction with Conley got her thinking, nonetheless.

“As a woman you’re not supposed to fart, but it happens. Whereas [with] guys, it’s ha-ha funny. But for us, it’s like ‘oh my God,’ and we feel shameful. So [this] had a little therapy to it.”

The crowd at Coffee Confessionals.

Comedians Chris Collins (@chrisco11ins), left, and Mina Quarterman (@minaquarterman) prep for their sets while fellow comic Olivia Xing (@oliviacrossing_) beams with support from the crowd at Coffee Confessionals.

After the show, one of the evening’s comedians, Mina Quarterman, turned to the crowd for advice, as attendees were zipping their coats and readying to leave.

“OK, so I had the crowd [at the Laugh Factory] turn on me because of something I said on stage [recently],” she said. “And I wanna know if you guys think I was wrong.”

Advertisement

The crowd leaned in around her as she relayed a story about using a term on stage that an audience member felt was offensive.

“It caused a ruckus,” Quarterman said.

Everyone at Coffee Confessionals, however, seemed in agreement that Quarterman hadn’t been in the wrong — and she appeared visibly relieved. “Thank you for [workshopping] this!” she said.

Ultimately, whether you come to Coffee Confessionals seeking real advice, community and connection or stand-up performances, laughter itself is therapeutic, the evening’s MC, Marie, says.

“Laughter is everything. When you laugh — like a real belly laugh — you’re letting out your inner self,” she says. “It’s true freedom.”

Advertisement
A group photo with five people, front two on a couch.

Post-show with Sammy Cantu (@boom_shenanigans), standing from left, Jordan Conley (@loljordancon1ey), Chris Collins (@chrisco11ins), and, seated from left, Jing Lin (shop owner) and Olivia Xing (@oliviacrossing_) at Coffee Confessionals.

Continue Reading
Advertisement

Trending