Lifestyle
Some of the best sound baths in L.A. are happening in mattress stores
I stir in the dark. So do the others. There are around 30 of us, maybe more — all experiencing the soundscape of the quartz bowls; a tech-free hour designed for us to commune with memory, creativity and emotion. A chime brings the sound bath to its formal end, signaling us to reacquaint ourselves with the physical present, to officially “wake up.” Slipping out of blankets and off of tall, puffy mattresses, we give thanks, take a crystal, a mantra card … and leave the giant mattress warehouse for the bright lights of Glendale Boulevard.
While not affiliated with any specific modality, the sound bath inside the Atwater Village branch of Mattress Central has a cult-like following. The brainchild of practitioner Alice Moon, the event (which often sells out) is one of many nontraditional wellness offerings from her company Moon Soul Sound Baths. At the monthly event, her patrons gather at the store, select a mattress (alone or with a friend), get cozy and swap the static of the world for the soothing harmonics of Moon’s quartz bowls.
As you might imagine, Moon is fairly nontraditional herself. She grew up in New Orleans and after Hurricane Katrina she felt compelled to make a change. She came to L.A. for a long vacation and ended up staying.
“I just wanted to take a month-long trip,” Moon said. “But when I got here I was like, this is the missing puzzle piece that my life needed.”
In Los Angeles, Moon embraced cannabis culture. She became a self-taught cannabis industry PR professional and even created a tech start-up for locating edibles based on dietary needs (a kind of Yelp for cannabis, she explained). But after being diagnosed with cannabinoid hyperemesis syndrome, a condition in which long-term cannabis users can suffer from symptoms like severe nausea, she again felt a need for change.
Alice Moon plays an ocean drum while walking around participants; her sessions are 50 minutes long.
(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)
“That kind of flipped my world upside down,” Moon said. “I went on this journey of trying to find things that brought me joy, the same way that cannabis did.”
Sound baths were the answer, helping Moon feel calm, positive and connected to herself. After years of practicing, Moon felt inspired to share her love of sound baths with others. “One day I woke up and I said, you know what? I feel like it is my time to bring that type of peace to other people.”
With her social media savvy and PR sensibilities at play, Moon wanted to create an experience that would be extra comfortable … and, of course, memorable. Inspired by other wellness practitioners, Moon reached out to Mattress Central to create her own version of the trend. A couple million views on Threads and hundreds of fans later, her baths book well in advance and to rave reviews. While Moon’s frequently sold-out mattress store offering has clearly made a splash on the L.A. wellness scene — it’s not the only one.
Heather Fink, left, and Nubia Jimenez, right, recline and wear sleep masks during a relaxing sound bath.
(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)
In West Hollywood, Barry Raccio is also host to a highly coveted mattress store sound bath. With a background in Kundalini yoga, breath work, meditation and sound healing, Raccio is a 20-year veteran of the wellness space. In Hästens mattress showroom on Beverly Boulevard, he hosts a small but sought-after sound bath happening called the “Deep Reset Luxury Sound Bath Experience.”
At the event, Raccio — who’s facilitated baths for companies including Chanel, BMW and the Parker Hotel — pours tea, plays instruments (including the traditional quartz bowls) and holds court among ultra-premium Hästens beds, including the $720,000 Grand Vividus mattress, called “the most expensive mattress in the world.”
On these ultra-luxury mattresses, a small group of 10, maybe 12 people experience the crystal bowls and “heal their nervous systems” much deeper than a normal bath — one profound, restful hour away from the chaos of the modern world. It’s a more intimate, more opulent version of Moon’s baths, but with a similar healing effect (and yes — you can book the Grand Vividus for the occasion).
Alice Moon performs with crystal singing bowls.
(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)
“Rest is a luxury,” Raccio says. “Because [the mattresses] are so comfortable, they conform to bodies without needing anything under your knees or even a pillow. You’re just so supported that the nervous system drops in much quicker and the relaxation process is even more profound. The effects of the sound healing even go deeper.”
In their own ways, Raccio and Moon’s mattress store sound baths are tapping into a collective need for rest, but beyond that — a gentle pause from technology for one’s own well-being. The chakra-balancing work of a sound bath coupled with the uniquely relaxing context of a mattress store gets guests there and beyond (deep sleep and snoring are commonplace at these events).
“At the mattress store, it’s like, you can really, really relax. And I just want people to feel comfortable and safe and, you know, just a moment for them,” Moon said. “That’s what it really is. It’s a moment for everyone to just, like, be there for themselves.”
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In 1995, when Madonna held herself a lavish 37th birthday party, she chose a suitably trendy location: the Delano, the Art Deco Miami Beach hotel that the impresario Ian Schrager had transformed into a magnet for the glamorati and guests that aspired to be like them.
With its tastemaker clientele and discreet yet indulgent atmosphere, the hotel felt like a mix of a St. Tropez resort crossed with a fashion week after party.
“There were the cool rock star people, there were the Hollywood billionaire types, the downtown fashion New York people, people swimming naked in the pool at 1 a.m.,” said David Barton, the popular trainer whose gym had a branch in the hotel for several years. “You were just in this other world.”
A couple of decades before celebrities’ every move was documented on social media, the Delano was a safe space for revelry without consequences, perhaps with some selfie-free relaxation thrown in. The ambience stretched throughout the property, which included poolside bungalows and Blue Door restaurant, of which Madonna was an owner.
“It was really the Miami equivalent of Studio 54,” said Paul Wilmot, a former fashion publicist and Delano regular in its mid-90s heyday.
Next month, after closing in 2020, cycling through several ownership changes and undergoing a redesign that cost about $100 million, the hotel, in its latest incarnation, Delano Miami Beach, is scheduled to reopen. The reconstituted version is decidedly different than Schrager’s, focusing on pranayama breathing instead of partying and matcha lattes over martinis, with a bit of the atmosphere you might expect at a Soho House thrown in.
The aim, said Ben Pundole, the chief brand officer for Delano Hotels, is “to capture the current zeitgeist of wellness and experience and community.”
These days, getting the in crowd to South Beach may be a challenge. In the past decade or so, other neighborhoods — the Miami Design District, Downtown Miami, Little River, Coconut Grove and Wynwood — have stolen its alluring thunder.
“It’s been a nonfactor for so many years,” Ingrid Casares, a Miami native and an owner of Liquid, the defunct nightclub that opened in South Beach the same week as Schrager’s iteration of the Delano, said of the neighborhood.
“Back in the 1990s, it was like a small village, like Ibiza almost,” she said. “It was a very quaint town where we all knew each other.”
Pundole added that, with the new Delano, “we really have a responsibility to bring some of that back.”
Today’s Delano includes 171 guest rooms, with rates starting at $395. The décor is still imbued with some of the grandeur that guests of a certain age will remember, like extra-high ceilings and grand columns on the ground floor. The new design is sleeker and less imposing, without most of the quirky details — a giant outdoor chess set, diaphanous curtains wafting inside the lobby — dreamed up by the architect and interior designer Philippe Starck.
Where a giant Starck-designed white chair once sat, there’s now a cafe to grab a decaf oat cappuccino; at the renovated Rose Bar, the menu includes mocktails built on ginger ale or soda water alongside Negronis and old-fashioneds. In the basement spa, guests can order CBD shots or mushroom “coffee” and sit in a 22-seat communal sauna designed for what Pundole called “social wellness.”
Miami Beach itself is aiming to rebrand itself around wellness, too. In February, the city introduced its spring break campaign, this year called “Break a Sweat.” On its website, an image of a yoga class on the beach with participants in the downward dog position is captioned “Bottoms Up.” Under a photo of a muscle-clad man inverted over a workout bar, the caption reads, “This is our kind of hang over.”
“That’s an evolution also of what’s happening in our society,” said Steven Meiner, the mayor of Miami Beach. “Drinking is down, especially in the younger generation, and that is being felt and impacted in Miami Beach, as well.”
Miami Beach — a different city than Miami, strictly speaking — is seemingly trying to shift away from its image as a hotbed of partying, especially during spring break. Beyond late-night cacophony, the revelry on South Beach streets like Ocean Drive had a reputation for being potentially dangerous. Sometimes, it lived up to that image: In March 2023, shootings caused two deaths.
“We saw a level of chaos and, unfortunately, violence in the past that we’ve cleaned up the last couple years,” Meiner said. Through measures like increased police visibility, Miami Beach reduced its crime rate by about 20 percent last year compared with 2024.
“South Beach is maturing,” said Lara Koslow, a Miami-based managing director and senior partner at Boston Consulting Group, a global management firm. “It’s moving from a party-first identity toward a more curated, luxury-lifestyle positioning.”
As for its history of debauchery, she said, “that’s both an opportunity and a challenge.”
Perhaps with that in mind, some hotels close to the Delano that were once its chic competitors — the Raleigh, the Sagamore and the Shore Club — are also being reconceived. Nearby, the Fasano Group and Aman Resorts have properties in the works, too.
The opening of hotels like a Miami Beach Aman “could be just enough to have another resurgence down there,” Schrager said.
As for the new Delano, he said: “I don’t really know much about the reopening. I only really know about what we did and the pivotal impact it had on Miami Beach.”
The Delano’s footprint is poised to go well beyond South Beach. It is now a chain with Delano-branded hotels planned in a handful of cities, including New York, over the next few years. There are already Delanos in Paris and Dubai. A Delano-ifed apartment building intends to break ground in Downtown Miami next year.
With the reinvented Delano now set to open in South Beach next month, the question is: Can it survive as a wellness destination?
“Maybe that time has come and gone,” Barton said. “I don’t know that you can recreate what happened at the Delano.”
Brandon Shahniani is obsessed with the 1980s sitcom “The Golden Girls,” so much so that he decorated his breezy bedroom in pastel tones that would make Blanche Devereaux, the show’s famously flirtatious character, green with envy.
“I want to live in 1980s Miami Beach,” says the 28-year-old who’s the co-owner of the Fair Oaks Pharmacy and Soda Fountain in South Pasadena, a Disney adult, and occasionally, the drag persona known as ’Naynay.
“When I ask myself, ‘Where would I want to wake up?,’ the answer is right here,” he says. “And I sleep really well here.”
His bedroom, which he calls ’Naynay’s Expo Beach Resort, looks and feels like a hotel, with a soothing scent reminiscent of Coppertone sunscreen coming from a specialized scent-delivery machine, a resort activity schedule on the dresser and an emergency evacuation map on the back of the door.
“At ’Naynay’s Expo Beach Resort, there is a light sunscreen scent that, along with the music and the visual queues, makes you actually feel like you’re on vacation in Miami Beach in 1987,” says Shahniani.
A hotel room sign welcomes you to the Expo Beach Resort.
Welcome to ’Naynay’s World Expo, Shahniani’s three-bedroom, three-bathroom 1982 townhome in Montrose, composed of 11 carefully curated immersive moments, each filled with the pop-culture sights, sounds and smells of his youth that make him “feel safe, expressed, playful and happy.”
“Whimsy is very important to my generation,” the zillennial says as he offers a tour. “The future is bleak for us,” he adds, even though his upbeat attitude and warm energy make you feel like you’ve known him for years.
To push back against generational anxiety, Shahniani has covered every wall in his house with sentimental items — hundreds in total — many of them from periods he is too young to have experienced. There’s a vintage Disneyland ticket book, a Rubik’s Cube and an old aluminum speaker from a drive-in theater. Some things, including a signed birthday greeting from Disney Imagineer Joe Rohde, are framed. Others, including an Egg McMuffin carton, lunchboxes and food-themed Barbies, are simply mounted on the wall.
Shahniani enjoys screening movies on the wall in his 1950s-style diner and serving TV dinners.
“The Route 66 Cookbook” is within reach of the sparkling vinyl dinette.
When you first walk in the front door, you’ll see ’Naynay’s Diner, centered around a custom-made shiny pink-and-silver vinyl booth. Across from the booth and above the bar, a pink-and-white television made from an iPad inside a plastic foam cooler plays old cereal commercials and clips from “I Love Lucy” and “Bewitched” on repeat.
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“I love a diner and a drive-in theater,” he says about his movie nights, where he screens films and serves TV dinners. But don’t expect him to sit still for long. “I’m not a big movie person,” he says. “I play movies for ambience.”
His home is visually overwhelming — as colorful, whimsical and jam-packed as Disneyland’s Enchanted Tiki Room (which he prefers over theme park rides such as Space Mountain) — with license plates and custom-made signs by artists Reimi Mosses and Dan Rocky as big as movie posters.
“It’s clear that he, like me, was educated at theme parks,” says friend Charles Phoenix, a midcentury pop-culture and design expert. His home “feels like we are in some sort of exquisite divine design reality. It touches a nerve in me that everybody has their own version of nostalgia. And what Brandon has created is his own nostalgia.”
“In ’Naynay’s Kitchen of Progress, my kitchen monitor plays a loop of the Carousel of Progress attraction preshow while still managing to set up all my kitchen timers and fetch recipes for me,” he says.
A Pizza Hut pendant illuminates McDonald’s collectibles in the ’80s & ’90s Food Culture Hall of Fame dining room.
Using sensory theme park tricks he picked up during his time as a storyteller at Disneyland, Shahniani, who grew up in South Pasadena, has filled his town house with sound effects from hidden speakers he controls with his iPhone. In the diner, for example, the speakers play outdoor sounds including crickets to create a real drive-in movie atmosphere. Upstairs in his bedroom, tropical sounds and steelpan music add to the feeling of sleeping in a seaside resort.
Other rooms downstairs include the B-Movie Bathroom, ’Naynay’s Kitchen of Progress and the ’80s & ’90s Food Culture Hall of Fame dining room, which is illuminated by a Pizza Hut pendant. In the ’80s Palm Common Room, a vintage keyboard, a computer mouse and touch-tone phone hang on the walls.
This spring, just outside the dining room, Shahniani will add the Expoterrace, a relaxing patio with a fountain, waterfalls and lush plants inspired by Living with the Land at Epcot in Florida.
‘Naynay, Brandon Shahniani’s drag alter ego, uses the powder room for dressing and makeup.
Upstairs, in the bubble gum-pink Powder Room, Shahniani keeps his drag costumes, made by his favorite dressmaker, Kelsey Swarthout, who uses upcycled Disney sheets in her designs. He stores his makeup, wigs, earrings, eyelashes and purses in sleek cabinets and organizes them in a digital closet he built from an iPad and a plastic foam cooler.
When he’s not getting ready as ’Naynay, he likes to watch “chick flicks” such as “Clueless,” “Earth Girls are Easy” and “Pretty in Pink.” Shahniani doesn’t perform as a drag queen, but he enjoys dressing up as ’Naynay for different events and theme park visits. “I treat drag the way other people treat cosplay,” he says.
Says Phoenix: “He’s so original. I’ve never known anyone who self-presents like him.”
Shahniani’s drag alter ego ’Naynay is celebrated in illustrations by artist Brittney Sides, hanging in his hallway.
Past the 1970s-themed mint chocolate chip bathroom, where you can lather up with Native Girl Scouts Cookies Thin Mint Body Wash, and through the Hall of ’Naynay, which displays seven retro portraits of Shahniani in his favorite drag outfits by illustrator Brittney Sides, you’ll find the Disneyland-themed Archive Room. Shahniani calls it a “teenage boy’s dream.” Which tracks for someone who has visited every Disney theme park in the world — Tokyo is his favorite — and was recently featured in AJ Wolfe’s book “Disney Adults: Exploring (And Falling in Love With) A Magical Subculture.”
The Archive Room is painted blue and filled with Disney parks memorabilia he’s collected over the years including his ticket stubs, which are safely stored in a fillable glass lamp. “From scouring through antique malls and online auctions to personal items from my childhood at the parks or things gifted by previous cast members and Imagineers, it’s a holy grail collection of all of my personal hyperfixations from the park,” he says.
The guest bedroom is Disney-themed.
A bedside lamp is filled with Disney ticket stubs next to a Mickey Mouse telephone.
Shahniani says his home feels special because so many friends helped with the design, the art on the walls and even his clothing.
His friend, theme park journalist Carlye Wisel, noticed these details too. “Visiting Brandon is glee-inducing not just because of the decor, but also the company,” she says in an email. “At our annual holiday party, he sets up gingerbread houses for us to decorate, puts presents on the steps, and even bakes enough of his signature cookies that we can bring a box home to our families. Spending time at Brandon’s house during the holidays is the closest I’ll ever feel to being inside a Christmas movie.”
Shahniani agrees: “It’s so fun to be here. There’s something so youthful about it.”
The feeling of being transported by youthful energy motivates Shahniani every morning when he starts his day by playing Pinar Toprak’s uplifting Epcot theme on the speakers downstairs.
As he puts it, “I believe that my default way of thinking, feeling and seeing the world is being dictated by the way I was programmed as a young child. When the youngest, most innocent version of you is healed and well, then it’s easy to go out and do amazing things. And when little Brandon feels great inside, then big Brandon can go out and change the world for the better.”
The ’80s-inspired living room is filled with vintage technology, including chunky phones, old keyboards and portable TVs.
Now he hopes to help others build the dream life they’ve always imagined. “I’m currently working on an accessible life-coaching resource in the style of an ‘80s TV show, using YouTube videos, to show others they can defy the societal norm of being miserable,” he says. “It’ll be funny, effective, kitschy, nostalgic and change the way we use self-help for the better.”
Some people may see it as whimsy, he says, adding: “Others call it prioritizing your mental health.”
The B movie-themed bathroom.
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