Heat, rhythm, and ritual: Inside NYC’s most popular sauna rave

I’ve never trusted people who wake up at sunrise by choice—so why was I enroute to a sauna rave at 5:30 am on a Wednesday? As a proud hater of morning people and their holier-than-thou energy, this plan defied all my core beliefs. But when I stumbled across a spa’s Instagram post featuring one of my favourite DJs tearing up the dance sauna floor, I was intrigued. I’ll try anything once—and within five minutes of watching, I had booked two tickets to the 6 to 9 am ‘heatwave rave’ with no concrete plan to survive a full office day right after.

My biggest concern (besides making it there on time) was how I’d possibly find the energy to dance for three hours that early without caffeine or anything else to jumpstart me. I’m also deeply sceptical of anything that feels even remotely cultish, and in NYC, where wellness often veers into performance, a lot of events feel overly curated or just plain pretentious. So, when, within the 20 steps it took to reach the check-in counter, two people asked if I needed a hug (at 6 am?!) when I was barely functional, it felt like my personal nightmare. But I decided to lean in without judging.

The first part of my stimulant-free rave experience involved 20 minutes in the sauna, followed by a three-minute cold plunge, both thankfully guided by instructors from Othership, a chain of wellness studios that offer “immersive bathhouse experiences”. As a cold-plunge newbie, I was amazed by how quickly it jolted me into a new kind of energy. Endorphins kicked in, and suddenly I needed to move. Alternating between hot and cold left me feeling naturally high, the perfect prep for dancing in a larger, slightly cooler sauna space. The cold plunge had cracked me open just enough, and by the time the music started, I was all in.

A quiet (but loud) shift is happening in NYC’s party scene. A new generation of sober-curious people is redefining nightlife, turning raving into something more intentional, more dance-forward (as it should be), and surprisingly wellness-adjacent. At the same time, it has sparked a debate: what even counts as a rave anymore? While purists say all you need is pounding EDM music and hours of nonstop dancing (real dancing, not just bobbing with a drink in hand), the word still carries associations with drugs and alcohol, prompting some to roll their eyes at ‘wellness raves’ and ‘conscious partying’. The rise of niche themed events like cheese raves, coffee raves, and kitchen raves has only fuelled the debate. Is the rebrand the problem, or is it the lack of substances?

“Conscious raving, to me, is a reclamation of ancient ritual—gathering to move, sweat, sing, breathe, and release together,” shares Radha Agrawal, host/designer of these sauna raves, when I reach out to her over email a week later. Agrawal is the co-founder of Daybreaker, a sober dance movement that began 12 years ago with early-morning parties in iconic venues across the States as well as cities like London, Berlin, and Paris.

At my first rave, I spotted Agrawal dancing quietly in a corner behind the DJ, unassuming (as unassuming as she could be in a cute, sparkly silver swimsuit) and focused on the music. At the end of the rave, she introduced herself as the founder and led a grounding exercise—30 seconds sitting back-to-back with a stranger, then 30 face-to-face. Normally, I’d be calculating my escape at this point—trying to avoid flashbacks from school, waiting to see who picks me as a partner—but she made it easy by making the pairs herself.

Agrawal is not your typical wellness figure. Half-Indian, half-Japanese, born in Montreal, she exudes a kinetic, bohemian energy—always in motion, sporting her signature cowboy or furry hats, speaking in a melodic cadence that makes everything sound like part invitation, part secret. She moves through her events like water: slipping between quick greetings, disappearing into corners, reappearing at the exact moment she’s needed.

I ask Agrawal how she approaches designing experiences that resonate across generations, especially in a time when generational stereotypes dominate everything from memes to marketing: “I believe in designing for the human, not the demographic. Our deepest longings—for connection, for joy, for meaning—are ageless. When we create spaces with shared values at the core, the boundaries between Gen Z and Boomers dissolve. At Daybreaker, we call ourselves intergenerational by design. We want the 22-year-old dancing next to a 72-year-old to feel that both are mirrors of vitality. Bridging the generational gap isn’t the goal—it’s the natural outcome of centring belonging.”

Agrawal speaks a lot about belonging—on her Instagram, a pinned video features a snippet from her SXSW talk on the Power of Belonging; the same profile mentions her as the chairperson for Belong Centre, a nonprofit trying to “end loneliness” by “training” younger people “to build meaningful social connection”. Her own experience with loneliness is why she’s evangelical about connection.

A decade ago, she found herself waking up feeling disconnected in the supposed ‘best city in the world’, surrounded by people but not with people. “I chased every sunrise and rarely paused to integrate. My definition of wellness has matured—it’s not about green juice and yoga poses anymore,” she says. “In a culture obsessed with optimisation and individualism, the dance floor becomes a temple of togetherness. We regulate each other. We remember we’re not alone. That’s what care looks like in its most embodied form. Collective care is the new self-care.” 

What struck me most was how this format stripped away all pretence. I’ve been to events where cliques form, where people come with friends and don’t look outside their circle—but here, community felt like the point. Here, everyone’s in swimsuits, moving to the same pulse, no one’s glued to their phone, and the crowd spans every age bracket. My second time at a Daybreaker rave, I watched Agrawal and her team personally escort an attendee’s parents up the steps to dance behind the DJ—the parents stayed there for an hour, clearly having the time of their lives.

As a New Yorker, I’ve shelled out up to $120 to see my favourite DJs in Brooklyn warehouses and famous clubs + the overpriced drink that will inevitably end up on the floor. The sauna rave cost half as much and left me hangover-free and naturally high. Unlike so many “wellness” events where you pay to hear a guru say something your Indian grandma could have taught you, or nightlife spots where you overpay to spend most of your night defending six inches of dance floor, this somehow delivers both—the sweat and the soundtrack. Need to catch your breath? Head to the hotter sauna. Craving another jolt? Back to the cold plunge you go.

Daybreaker began as a kind of social experiment: what happens when you remove substances, add intention, and start the day with joy? Could community be built on belonging instead of performance? The answer, it turns out, was yes. The spark behind Daybreaker was to bring the transformational power of dance and ritual back to everyday life—no need for remote desert festivals. It was also about aligning with our natural circadian rhythms—connecting in the morning, when we’re most energised, instead of artificially pushing through the night.

“Dance is one of the few practices that integrates all layers of the self—physical, emotional, spiritual, social. In today’s overstimulated, screen-drenched world, we’re constantly in fight-or-flight. Dance brings us back to rhythm, to heartbeat, to breath. It discharges stress, but it also builds joy in the body. When done in community, it’s co-regulation in motion,” she says when asked about the future of healing.

Even clubs and venues are taking note. With alcohol sales no longer the backbone of nightlife, many are introducing memberships or season passes and pivoting toward intentional, substance-free experiences. There’s an entire new economy forming around “conscious partying”—and it’s just as much about connection as it is about movement.

So, what’s next? I asked Agrawal what excites her most about the future of nightlife. “I’m excited about the return to ritual. About nightlife becoming more about sunrise than blackout. I see a future where wellness isn’t a solo pursuit but a shared culture. Where community gatherings look more like ceremony than spectacle—spaces that make us feel more connected, more whole, more human.”