What actually goes on during a ‘dry float tank’ session? We tried two locales
It was all a bit dystopian. I parked on a scorching late winter day in an outdoor lot in downtown Los Angeles, surrounded by corporate skyscrapers, the sidewalks lined with housing encampments. There was nothing distinctive about the condo-like building in which Quantum Wellness is located, aside from two welcoming Goliathan Buddha sculptures.
I entered the spa’s sparkling white lobby to try out their “bodiless dry float,” a bed filled with 400 liters of heated water meant to create a weightless experience that eases pressure from the spine and joints and melts away stress. The beds are designed to mimic a traditional float tank – in which a person is suspended in water filled with Epsom salt, often in complete darkness – but the advantage of these beds is that there is no need to get wet. At Quantum, the experience lasts 35 minutes and costs $60.
Jeremy Hoffmann is the founder, CEO and owner of Quantum Wellness Spa.
(Dania Maxwell / For Time)
“We really wanted to focus on calming people’s nervous systems,” says Jeremy Hoffmann, founder and CEO of Quantum Wellness Spa. “When it comes to dry float, I think there are very few technologies that provide 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 in which humans live underground, seeking to reconnect with what life on Earth once was. The neon lights make the dark, cool hallway and rooms feel like you’re on board a spaceship. Reserved moss and mycelium grew in a room with a crystal floor where I could hear the members breathing vigorously. In the space with cold plunge and sauna, the walls undulate with color-changing patterns, designed to evoke arctic caves and volcanic rock.
At the front desk, I was greeted by a host who walked me down the hallway and into a bright cerulean room. “Do you have any intention?” he asked.
“Presence,” I replied.
Hartman prepares for his float experience at Quantum Wellness in downtown Los Angeles
(Dania Maxwell / For Time)
I climbed over the bed frame and lay down on a sheet of plastic. The host handed me a blindfold and Bose noise-cancelling headphones, playing the hypnotic sounds of a space drum with birds chirping in the distance.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Yes.”
Slowly, the host laid me down in bed. I felt myself sinking into the water, the hot liquid-filled plastic making its way into all my crevices.
“OK, time to relax,” I thought, taking a deep breath and sighing audibly at the end of the day.
Almost immediately, much like my morning meditation practice, I began to notice my frantic, future-focused thinking. What will the rest of my day look like? Maybe I’ll get Sweetgreen for lunch…
But unlike a meditation of the same length, at some point my mind gave up on its stubborn ruminations. I sighed continually (a sign that my nervous system was down-regulated) and began to drift away from the repetitive sounds of the music. Before I knew it, the bed was rising again.
The experience was noticeably different from my stay at WellNest a week prior. The spa, open 24/7 in Pasadena, offers exclusively dry floating ($80 for a one-hour session).
The experience involves wearing a blindfold and Bose noise-cancelling headphones that play soothing music.
(Dania Maxwell/For Time)
Like Quantum, it also seemed strangely futuristic. Before I arrived, I had received a video that looked like an advertisement for a health care company explaining how to find the building and check in. I escorted myself to a bulky metal utility elevator that opened into a waiting room warmly lit in beiges and pinks and an office, both empty. If I had questions, someone named Jane, my “wellness concierge” who I never met, would text me to let me know she was there to support me.
I let myself into the room and climbed into bed, one foot at a time, the hot water inside the plastic sheet sloshing and making me feel a little wobbly. Unlike the Quantum’s bed, I was not lowered. Instead, a little water filled around me, but I didn’t feel any firmness that gave the sensation of being firmly held or suspended. It actually reminded me a little of my childhood friend’s waterbed (fun, but not particularly therapeutic).
Wet or dry floating would help reduce stress and anxiety in the short term.
(Dania Maxwell / For Time)
Anthony S. Saribekyan, 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 advantage, he says, of the dry float over the regular float is the convenience of not having to shower before and after. Both types of floats, he said, contain 9,000 pounds of Epsom salt. Dry float tanks are also more environmentally friendly because the water is sealed inside the system and is typically only replaced every month, or even several years, instead of being regularly drained and replenished.
So far, there is limited data on the effectiveness of dry versus wet flotation. A small study found that both types of flotation increase relaxation, but wet flotation is more therapeutic.
The floating tank (or isolation tank) was invented in 1954 by an eccentric researcher named John C. Lilly, who believed that an experience devoid of sensory input (sound, light, or even gravity) was the key to understanding the nature of human consciousness. Beginning in the 1970s and 1980s, research into the benefits of wet flotation took off – and has continued ever since, with studies funded by the National Institutes of Health. Today, the most notable and consistent finding about wet floating is that it helps reduce stress and anxiety in the short term, even after just one session. There have also been studies, many smaller and more preliminary, showing the benefits of floating for conditions such as insomnia, body image dissatisfaction in people with anorexia, methamphetamine addiction, and pain intensity, such as stress placed on the body after a high-impact workout.
Emily Choquette, director of the Torrance-based Float Clinic and Research Center, hypothesizes that some, but not all, of the benefits obtained with wet flotation would also be obtained with dry flotation. In studies conducted at the Float Clinic and Research Center, Choquette says they use a weightless chair — which is different from a dry float, but similar in that it creates a sensation of suspension without a person being submerged in water. They found the chair to be effective in many of the same conditions as wet flotation, but, in general, it didn’t seem to have as noticeable an improvement in effect.
At least when it comes to wet flotation, Choquette says, there’s now enough research that she’d like to see insurance companies cover it as a complementary treatment for anxiety, in conjunction with therapy. As with everyone, 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.”
As I exited Quantum’s cavernous underbelly and returned to the sprawling urban development, I had to admit: I felt lighter, like my stress had been taken down a few notches. Unlike before, when I was rushing to my appointment, I walked a little slower, enjoying the sun brushing against 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 tell after one session, but it’s worth another visit.
Hartman tried two different locations for a dry float experience: one at WellNest and one at Quantum Wellness Spa, where she is photographed.
(Dania Maxwell / For Time)
