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

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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)

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“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)

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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.

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“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)

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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)

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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.”

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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)

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Lifestyle

We’re having a main character summer. Are you? : It’s Been a Minute

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We’re having a main character summer. Are you? : It’s Been a Minute
Are you ready for a whirlwind summer romance?Making plans to capitalize on summer can get overwhelming – from finding the right spot to hang or feeling comfortable in your clothes in the sweltering summer heat. So what does it mean to approach summer with a romantic joie de vivre?  Brittany is joined by Carly Olson, freelance journalist covering architecture and business, and Garrett Schlichte, writer and chef, to walk us through how to have a rom-com summer where you’re the star.Want more on how to be the best version of yourself? Check out these episodes:How to make friends & get good gossipIt only takes 30 minutes to be a good momSupport Public Media. Join NPR Plus.Follow Brittany on Instagram: @bmluseFor handpicked podcast recommendations every week, subscribe to NPR’s Pod Club newsletter at npr.org/podclub.
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Vintage-obsessed millennial parents are driving L.A.’s booming kids’ clothing resale market

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Vintage-obsessed millennial parents are driving L.A.’s booming kids’ clothing resale market

Kids’ vintage clothing sales are experiencing a remarkable boom at in-person markets and online, where prices for clothes for little ones have shot up on websites including Depop and Poshmark. Millennial parents are looking to outfit their kids in the clothes and TV and film characters they loved (or coveted) when they were kids.

The result? There’s a new generation of kiddos hitting the playground looking incredibly cool. Take Amari Case, a SoCal toddler who spent a Sunday afternoon this spring ambling around a vintage market in a West Hollywood warehouse clad in baggy jeans and a ’90s-era tee emblazoned with the “Dragon Ball Z” character Son Goku.

When she wasn’t scribbling on a Lorax coloring sheet, she’d been cruising around the market with her dad, Aaron Munoz Case, snapping up new pieces destined to make her the flyest kid at the preschool playground.

Neil Wright, from left, Kristine Nite Scalzo and Brandon Rosenblatt, co-founders of Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.

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Showing off Amari’s new vintage satin L.A. Raiders jacket and tiny teal Grant Hill Detroit Pistons jersey, Munoz Case, who was also impeccably dressed, noted that while Amari went through a phase at about 18 months where she wanted to dress herself, eventually she gave up and went back to letting her dripped-out dad dictate her wardrobe.

Munoz Case found Amari’s first vintage piece at the Rose Bowl Flea Market and got the bug, going back every month to pick up something to add to his little’s wardrobe.

Trendspotters and researchers say Munoz Case isn’t alone in his quest. The market for kids’ vintage clothing has heated up precipitously over the last few years, perhaps hitting a boiling point in January when an Eeyore romper from the ’90s sold for over $3,000 on EBay. (It was new with tags, but one without tags still went for almost a grand about a month later.)

The thirst for tiny throwbacks is so popular that first-ever, all-kids market Elemeno — named after the “L-M-N-O” bit of “The Alphabet Song” and where Amari was toddling and shopping — drew 17 vendors and over 2,000 attendees over a single weekend in March. (There are plans for another Elemeno Kids Vintage Market pop-up later this year in New York, as well as plans to bring the event back to L.A. sometime next year.)

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A child and mom seated.

2 A child wearing an Avirex jacket from the ’90s.

1. Cameron Scalzo, wearing a vintage McDonald’s T-shirt from the ‘90s, and mom Kristine Nite Scalzo. 2. Cameron Scalzo rocks an Avirex jacket from the ‘90s.

Eye Speak Vintage’s Kristine Nite Scalzo, who co-organized the event and is opening an all-kids vintage store in Pasadena this month, says she fell under the kids vintage spell in 2020 when she was pregnant with her son. She’d always been a vintage shopper for herself, so she knew she wanted to pass the passion down to the next generation. She started filling up her son’s closet, and soon enough, she found herself selling her other finds out of a bodega in her garage.

She has a by-appointment space in Pasadena now, where she draws everyone from Rihanna’s stylist to out-of-town moms who make a point to stop by on their way to Disneyland. “The community around kids vintage has really skyrocketed on Instagram over the past six years,” Scalzo says. “We want to know who we’re buying from. We want to know that we’re doing good with buying secondhand. And it’s a hobby for people that can turn into a possible business on the side. Because knowing there’s a big group that’s interested in vintage kids clothes, you can always pass an item [your kid outgrows] to someone else or resell it.”

Scalzo says some parents are out digging through bins at the Goodwill Outlet looking for the perfect piece, while others are content to pay up for, say, a ’90s Simpsons T-shirt or a mini-size Harley-Davidson jacket. Scouring the racks at the Elemeno market, most pieces cost $15 to $40, though there were special pieces pulled to the side in some booths with price tags that could make a parent’s eyes pop. (Think $275 for a set of well-worn Spider-Man overalls from the ’00s or $150 for a pair of Cross Colours denim shorts from the ’90s.)

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In kids and adult vintage alike, mint condition is highly valued. No matter the era in which they were raised, kids tend to be messy. They get strawberry juice on their shirts or scuff up the knees on their Bugle Boy jeans. Vintage kids clothes that look pristine are more expensive, and while plain kids clothes do sell, items with characters on them or cool prints tend to draw more attention and dollars.

Brandon Rosenblatt, another of the Elemeno organizers, says he’s had his eye on a specific kids “Back to the Future” shirt for some time, but notes that it typically sells for about $1,000. He’s partial to McKids clothes for his daughter, from McDonald’s short-lived kids clothing brand, noting that he’s even snagged her a vintage official McDonald’s-themed aloha shirt from Hawaii, something he says he’s never seen anywhere else.

1 Siblings Amora and Milo Castilo wear vintage cowboy hats, jackets and chaps.

2 Thalia Castilo and her kids Amora and Milo.

1. Siblings Amora and Milo Castilo wear vintage cowboy hats, jackets and chaps. 2. Thalia Castilo and her kids Amora and Milo.

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Other collectors, he says, might be a little less obscure, leaning into mainstream characters such as Strawberry Shortcake or from ’80s and ’90s properties including “The Land Before Time” and “Rugrats.”

“A lot of millennials are having kids — like everyone who’s in their 30s and 40s — and they all want to put their kids in the same IP they grew up in,” Rosenblatt says.

“It’s the thrill of the hunt that gets everyone so excited,” Scalzo says. “Once you find that perfect nostalgic piece, you’re like ‘Holy s—,’ and you just want to chase that feeling again and again.”

Mia De La Rosa, a reseller who was at the Elemeno market, says that like Scalzo, she started buying kids vintage clothes when she was pregnant with her daughter, Liv, who’s 6 now, very into everything on PBS Kids and has a closet full of thrifted vintage garb covered in characters such as D.W., the annoying little sister from the ’90s show “Arthur.”

Everything Liv wears is “completely her style,” De La Rosa says. “She dresses herself every day and she gets compliments on what she’s wearing at school all the time.”

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Other vintage-wearing kids — and in particular younger ones — might simply be sporting what their parents like or might just like the look of the shirt even if they don’t know what it’s advertising. (An 8-year-old boy at the Elemeno market, for instance, chose to wear a pristine T-shirt highlighting the ’90s Jim Carrey movie “The Mask” because it featured his favorite color: green.)

Derrick Broaster, a vintage enthusiast turned full-time reseller, says that while he chooses to put himself in clothes from the ’60s and ’70s, he outfits his two sons in clothes from the 2000s. (“How Bow Wow used to dress when he was a kid,” he says.)

Although his younger son tends to rebel against Broaster’s vintage picks, opting for whatever Spider-Man shoes happen to be in his eyeline, his older son has leaned in, letting his dad advise him on what vintage pieces could work and what would be the most stylish.

1 Brothers pose for a portrait wearing vintage clothing.

2 A family poses for a portrait wearing vintage clothing.

1. Julian, left, and Javier Gutierrez show off their vintage clothing. Javier says his mom always tells him to keep his vintage outfits clean. 2. Mom Priscilla Guzman, clockwise, Dad Javier Gutierrez and sons Julian and Javier Gutierrez enjoy the vibe of vintage clothing. Guzman says she’s been buying and selling kids’ vintage since her oldest son was born eight years ago.

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Rosenblatt says a good portion of what vintage finds he sees in the market now has returned to the U.S. from places in Central America and South America or Asia where those pieces were likely sent decades ago after they were donated or given away.

“There’s a real underbelly of this vintage game with rag houses getting access to bulk product overseas and letting people sort through it,” he says. “There are companies now that rip through 20, 30 or 40,000 pieces of vintage clothing a week. It’s a really interesting ecosystem.”

For many kids vintage sellers, finding their stock is just as fun and interesting as getting it back into consumers’ hands. “Anywhere we can find clothes, we’re there,” says Matthew Carlos, owner of Long Gone Youth. He started selling vintage clothes 11 years ago, when he was 15, switched to kids vintage at 20 and has spent the last six years scouring flea markets, websites and swap meets.

“The kids market is definitely growing,” he says, “but I still feel like we haven’t even gotten close to where we can go. It’s just getting popular now, but the more events [like Elemeno] we can do, the more it’ll go mainstream.” Even now, some major brands like Gap and OshKosh B’gosh have recognized the interest in some of their styles from the ’80s and ’90s, moving to re-release the looks in limited runs.

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Jackie and Frank Oropeza with daughter Rumi Mae shop at Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.

Jackie and Frank Oropeza with daughter Rumi Mae shop at Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.

Kids resale is also leaning into streetwear culture. Rosenblatt, who worked in the streetwear industry, says that he’s noticed that a good portion of those interested in kids vintage — particularly, male shoppers — tend to be fans of streetwear brands like Supreme, Fear of God Essentials and Bape. At Elemeno, for instance, a good portion of the parents we saw pushing strollers were well-dressed dads seemingly on solo missions, something you don’t always see at kid-centric events.

“I just want my son to feel like I did as a kid,” said Justin Nguyen, while watching his toddler, Jayden, play with bubbles. “I want him to be happy, carefree and joyful, and I want to be able to spend time with him. My mom and dad were always working, even on the weekends. Now that I’m a dad, taking my son out on weekends to do stuff like this just seems like a blessing.”

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‘Hellions’ author Julia Elliott wins $150K fiction prize

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‘Hellions’ author Julia Elliott wins 0K fiction prize

Author Julia Elliott won for her short story collection Hellions.

Forrest Clonts/Tin House


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Writer Julia Elliott has won this year’s Carol Shields Prize for Fiction for her short story collection Hellions. The award honors work by women and nonbinary authors in the U.S. and Canada.

Elliott, who also authored the novel The New and Improved Romie Futch and the short story collection The Wilds, is known for blending elements of Southern gothic horror, surrealism and fairy tale. Hellions, published in 2025, includes stories set against backdrops like a plague-stricken medieval convent, a feminist art colony, and small Southern towns.

“This eerie, eclectic, genre-leaping collection takes no half-measures; every sentence of Hellions crackles or crawls,” wrote the prize jury in a statement. “Here, human folly moves against a backdrop of horror and magic … But for all its wildness, there is tremendous control.”

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The prize, named after a Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist, awards $150,000 to one winner each year. Novels, short story collections, and graphic novels by women and nonbinary authors are eligible.

This year’s finalists included Quiara Alegría Hudes (The White Hot), Lee Lai (Cannon), Megha Majumdar (A Guardian and a Thief), and Sonya Walger (Lion). They will each receive $12,500.

The Carol Shields Prize went to writer Canisia Lubrin in 2025.

You can listen to actor Donna Lynne Champlin read Elliott’s story “Hellion” on the Death, Sex & Money podcast here.

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