Getty Images; Tyler Le/BI
Everything is a private club now
In the new Gilded Age, if you aren't a member of at least six private clubs, you're a nobody.
Getty Images; Tyler Le/BI
I don't often mention that I belonged to The Wing, the women's-only social club that came to epitomize a distinctly mid-2010s blend of sisterhood and girlboss consumerism. By the time it closed less than six years after it opened, the pendulum of public opinion had already swung away from these timestamped sensibilities and, by extension, the club itself.My membership was out of character. I'm socially awkward and not much of a joiner. But I'd just moved to New York for work and needed to make friends — or, at least, to learn how to embrace being the kind of person who moves to New York and tries to make friends. It seemed only right that I should use my newfound disposable income to pursue these goals through a curated lifestyle experience. After all, isn't that what life in the big city is all about?This take was probably shallow. And yet, nearly a decade later, it's coming true. In a K-shaped economy where the wealthy are thriving and everyone else is freaking out, private clubs are having a renaissance.In major cities and a growing number of mid-size metros, niche members-only hangouts have emerged as a remedy for commercial landlords' post-pandemic woes and upwardly-mobile professionals' yearning for in-person togetherness. New York City is the epicenter of the craze; more than 30 new clubs have opened for business there in the last few years alone. They range from spa-like wellness spots such as Lore and Othership, hospitality-coworking hybrids including NeueHouse and Spring Place, and bastions of luxury like Casa Cipriani and Aman, with annual fees in the five to six figures, hoop-jumping application processes, and, in Cipriani's case, a waitlist reported in the thousands. The trend has even reached the city's outer boroughs: In Queens' Jacob Riis Park, on a beloved public waterfront nicknamed "the People's Beach," a long-shuttered bathhouse is set to reopen with a members-only club this summer.Whether they're targeting wellness fanatics, see-and-be-seen scenesters, self-employed creatives, or the wealthiest 0.01%, these gated social communities are calibrated for optimization. In an age of heightened loneliness and uncertainty, private clubs are selling not only camaraderie and controlled environments but the right kind of each, part of an expanding consumer caste system built on exclusive member perks.Private clubs may even be the market's ideal answer for the decline in places for people to get together — for those who can afford it.On a recent Friday afternoon at Scott Avenue Associates — an expansive two-year-old social club tucked into East Williamsburg's industrial fringe — a 5 p.m. spritz cart marked the shift from workday to happy hour. Servers delivered fizzy drinks straight to the sofas where my group of four was arranged. A musician named Alex, a fellow first-time visitor, reached for an olive from a complimentary snack tray and mused, "now this is lounge."
