An origin story…

(or: how a 431 year old bathhouse made me rethink everything)

In 2010, I stepped into my first communal bathhouse. I was in Istanbul with a short list of must do’s from Lauren Aviva. One of the spots on her recommendation list was Cemberlitas Hamam. My travel notes read: “located near the grand bazaar, unassuming entrance. built in 1584.  it’s luxurious at a reasonable price. not too hot, the scrubbing isn’t too rough. skip the oil massage, which is pretty hum drum. spend time, instead, just lying on the big marble slab (it’s hotter near the middle) and staring up at the gorgeous domed ceiling. afterwards, drink pomegranate juice from the bar.”

Image: courtesy of Cemberlitas Hammam, Istanbul

What I didn’t write in my sparse notes was the paradigm shift I had in the bathhouse that day. This was unlike anything I had ever experienced. In just two hours, this ancient bathhouse had challenged all the assumptions I had about wellness, spas, social life, and even who luxury is made for. And 15 years later, these themes are at the core of what we’re hoping create with Saunaday.

First, it was communal but not performative.

As I was laying on the marble belly stone and swimming through the various pools, I noticed women of all ages in deep conversation, helping scrub each other’s backs, laughing, just lying around, doing nothing, and seemed to be content doing just that. Cemberlitas is a gendered bathhouse, with men and women each having their own separate bathing facilities. I was given a peshtemal, or Turkish towel, and instructed that no bathing suits are worn. As I moved through the space, I was completely struck by how comfortable every woman seemed in her own exposed skin; there wasn’t any posing, performing, or hiding. And definitely no rushing to the next thing. It was an experience centered on wellbeing and idleness, and no one was expected to do anything particularly athletic or push themselves. It was gentle and slow and inclusive. A space where women could just be.

Image: courtesy of Cemberlitas Hammam, Istanbul

I had never experienced anything like it. After that day, however, I realized that equivalent experiences can be found in communal bathhouses and saunas around the world.

Second, it was luxurious AND accessible.

We visited the hammam on a Tuesday, around mid-morning, and the bathhouse was buzzing with activity. It appeared to be a regular, natural experience for these women. Not something reserved for a birthday, holiday, or even the weekend. In contrast to the routineness of their body language, we were surrounded by incredible marble, detailed columns and alcoves, and beautiful light streamed through the various domed ceilings. It was not the public pool tile I might loosely associate with communal bathing in the U.S.—it was incredibly luxurious. But Cemberlitas is also not the high-end spa that the materials and environment might suggest—it was somehow accessible enough to become routine. 

Image: courtesy of Cemberlitas Hammam, Istanbul

On this point, I recently received some advice from a well-meaning Finn not to ‘overshoot the mark’ on the design and materials in this space. And I took that piece of advice to heart for a few weeks. I re-evaluated the importance I was putting on the design and materials in the space. I looked to other comparable bathhouses and sauna businesses in the U.S., often filled with functional design, plastic tubs, and non-slip maps. I wondered if I was making poor business decisions designing for luxury at an accessible price. But then I returned to the experience we had at Cemberlitas. For me, the investment in these materials is about respect and honor; it’s about community care on every level. For me, one of the lessons we can learn from ancient bathing traditions (and the investment in public architecture in general) is that each and every person is worthy. And we can begin to communicate that worth through beauty, intentionality, and design details. Because everything communicates something.

Rendering: Saunaday

Modern rituals, grounded in ancient bathhouse traditions.

For Saunaday, we like to say that we are a modern bathhouse, drawing on ancient bathing traditions. What do we mean by that specifically? It’s not just the temperature of the cold plunge, the bench heights or humidity-levels in the saunas, or the wood species of the onsen tubs. Those things are important, but what’s more important are the intangibles. From Cemberlitas onward, we are learning how bathhouses connect people back to their inherent vitality—physically, mentally, socially, and spiritually. So now, 15 years after I first stepped foot in a bathhouse, Saunaday’s mission is to carry on the tradition of honoring vitality, beauty, and community through bathing.

xx, Roshelle