Some friendships are sustained by shared history. Others, perhaps, require matching robes, a skyline pool and several hours in which nobody answers an email. For anyone whose idea of bonding includes getting steamed, scrubbed and gloriously horizontal, SoJo Spa Club in Edgewater, New Jersey, is the grown-up wellness playhouse your group chat deserves.
Just across the Hudson, SoJo offers the rather delicious illusion of leaving New York without the indignity of an airport. Manhattan remains visible, glittering in the distance, although its deadlines and tiny daily dramas feel pleasingly less urgent from inside the heated infinity pool. The rooftop view stretches from the George Washington Bridge toward Battery Park City, which makes floating there feel almost cinematic. One is still near the city, certainly, just no longer being personally victimized by it.
The beauty of SoJo is its abundance. This is not a solemn treatment room where everyone whispers and pretends cucumber water has changed her life. It is a multi-level playground of pools, baths, saunas, lounges and treatments, designed for wandering according to mood. You may begin with a plan, although a particularly persuasive chaise will probably have other ideas.
There are ten heated pools and baths, including a carbon-rich bath, Hinoki bath and rooftop infinity pool. Inside, the temperature—and perhaps the friendship politics—can be adjusted in the salt, charcoal, clay and far-infrared saunas. An ice room provides a bracing counterpoint, should you and your friends feel compelled to prove something. Few experiences reveal character quite as efficiently as deciding who enters first.
This is precisely why SoJo works for a group. Everyone may pursue her preferred version of wellness without making the day a field trip. The heat seeker can conquer the saunas; the water baby can settle into hydrotherapy. The friend claiming she “cannot nap” may disappear into the lounge and emerge with suspiciously creased cheeks. Meanwhile, wellness, rather conveniently, need not interrupt the gossip.
For those inclined to make a production of it—and I support this instinct—the treatment menu offers massages, acupressure, Korean body scrubs and halotherapy. SoJo’s volcanic sand bath, an open-air ritual using mineral-rich sand from Ibusuki, Japan, provides another intriguing option. Guests are tucked beneath the heated sand until only their heads remain visible, a setup restorative and theatrical enough to inspire photographs.
My best friend and I, however, opted for massages. Since the spa was busy, we ended up booking a couples massage, which felt faintly romantic and practical. Both of us were in need of deep-tissue work, and we emerged refreshed, restored and with our muscles properly loosened. Let me tell you: if you are beginning to feel old in your late 30s or 40s, you probably just need a massage. Trust me. Aging may be inevitable, although much of the creaking is apparently optional.
Happily, SoJo understands that wellness is difficult to sustain on good intentions alone. Its food hall serves meals, sandwiches, snacks and smoothies, while seasonal outdoor options keep the skyline involved. A midday pause gives the group time to compare treatments, revise the sauna strategy and determine who is responsible for booking the next outing. Someone will suggest turning the day trip into an overnight stay at Hotel SoJo. Nobody, by this point, will object.
There is also something wonderfully democratic about the robe. Handbags, heels and the small visual negotiations of everyday life retreat into lockers; everyone pads around in swimwear and spa uniform, equally committed to feeling better. The atmosphere is playful rather than punishing. Nobody is asking you to become a new person by sunset. The assignment is simply to soak, sweat, laugh and perhaps loosen your grip on the week.
SoJo Spa Club is not merely a place to book a treatment. It is an itinerary, a mood and a rather excellent excuse to gather the friends who understand that self-care is considerably more fun with witnesses. Arrive early, bring a swimsuit and leave the group-chat drama on the other side of the Hudson. It will still be there tomorrow. Your skin, however, may be glowing too brightly to care.
