Beyond yoga mats and diet books: why biohacking and health havens are our newest status symbols
Today, Australia’s wellness industry is worth $200bn and has become an increasingly personal pursuit from vitamin C-infused shower filters to health data at our fingertips.
My choice of location to write and reflect on Australia’s health and wellbeing evolution – the co-working space of Virgin Active’s first luxury wellness hub – feels fitting. I’m about to break my 16-hour fasting window with a gut-flora-friendly kimchi bowl from its health café, having spent the morning shivering through a cold plunge and sweating my way to enlightenment in the infrared sauna. I’ve checked my sleep score; 86 out of 100 according to my new Apple Watch, which praises me for quantity (more than seven hours) but, with nine wake-ups and not enough REM, marks me down on quality.
My legs bear the trademark welts from being squeezed by inflatable compression boots; a practice once reserved for elite athletes but now a growing addition to the morning regimens of Aussie health devotees. Welcome to wellness in 2025.
Two decades ago, wellness meant a yoga mat, a diet book and a shot of wheatgrass. Today, Australia’s wellness industry is worth an estimated $200 billion, according to data from the Global Wellness Institute (GWI), and internationally this figure is estimated at more than US$6 trillion and growing. In the early 2000s, our health ambitions were simple: lose weight, tone up, eat less bread. The pandemic changed all that. It forced Australians to confront their mortality and biological vulnerability, transforming our concept of wellness from lifestyle choice to cultural fixation.
The numbers tell the story. We’re living longer but spending more of those years managing illness rather than avoiding it. Insights from the Australian Institute of Health and Welfare show that while the rates of infectious disease have dropped, chronic and lifestyle-related conditions such as cardiovascular disease, cancer, diabetes and mental illness dominate, accounting for roughly 90 per cent of Australia’s total non-fatal disease burden.
In 2007, one in five Australians had a mental disorder, with anxiety the most common at 14 per cent. By 2022, that figure rose to 21.5 per cent, and almost two in five people aged 16 to 24 reported symptoms of distress. Constant connectivity and blurred work–life boundaries have left many feeling wired yet exhausted; the perfect audience for products promising a cure for the stresses and demands of our unnaturally busy modern lives.
Social media has only intensified the quest. Wellness – once a pursuit practised in the privacy of gyms and kitchens – is now front facing as feeds fill with cold plunges, sleep hacks and supplement stacks.
In 2025, the time and money spent refining and perfecting our bodies is as much a measure of our social status as a practical means to a healthier life. According to nutritional biochemist Dr Libby Weaver, this has made people both more engaged and more confused. “The prioritisation of wellbeing has risen, and more people want to make themselves strong, physically and emotionally,” she says. “But social media has amplified the noise. People fixate on trending nutrients like magnesium or creatine and forget the basics.”
Weaver points out that while the methods have evolved, the fundamentals haven’t. “There’s no such thing as junk food; there’s junk, and there’s food. It’s what we do every day that shapes our health, not what we occasionally do.”
And as social media lets us peer over one another’s digital fences, it’s clear the Joneses with whom we’re trying to keep up no longer have a perfectly mowed lawn and luxury car, but a red-light-therapy panel, a magnesium plunge pool and near-perfect sleep scores.
Wellness is no longer something we visit on holiday; it’s becoming an address. Across Australia, a new breed of health sanctuaries is redefining what it means to “go to the club”. At the front of this evolution is Saint Haven, Gurner Group’s private members concept set to open its six-storey Sydney flagship in early 2026; a 3000-square-metre temple to holistic living that fuses biohacking, breathwork, recovery and connection under one minimalist roof. With its Haven Zone offering cryotherapy, red-light therapy, magnesium plunge pools and The Lab dedicated to longevity medicine – think exosome therapy, hyperbaric oxygen chambers and genetic testing – Saint Haven represents the pinnacle of sensory wellness. Founder Tim Gurner describes it as “a sanctuary of anticipatory excellence and performance that redefines how people live, work and connect”.
Virgin Active’s new luxury wellness hub in Sydney’s Bondi follows a similar blueprint, complete with cold plunge, saunas, recovery zones and a microbiome-focused café, signalling that the country’s most forward-thinking health spaces are blurring the line between fitness, hospitality and clinical care. These venues aren’t just gyms; they’re modern temples of self-regulation, designed to restore the nervous system as much as hone the physique.
And as these immersive “health havens” multiply, they’re influencing the way we design our homes. Sydney-based architect Oliver Du Puy says his clients now view wellness as a foundational principle rather than an add-on.
“They want spaces that promote healthy living, improve sleep, decrease stress and are effortless and joyful to live in. We shape our buildings; thereafter they shape us,” he says.
Where Saint Haven offers AI-led lighting, air and water purification, Du Puy’s high-end clients are integrating miniature versions of the same principles; circadian lighting systems, toxin-free materials and wellness zones inspired by boutique spas.
“Our projects strive above all for a luxury of spirit; a serene dialogue between architecture, interiors and the natural world,” he adds. “We’re working on homes with full wellness suites – cold plunge, sauna, hammam, cryotherapy – but also designing for the senses: sound, texture, light and atmosphere that ground us.” The architect has even installed vitamin C-infused shower filters for some health-conscious clients, which remove chlorine from the water and potentially offer additional sensory benefits.
The interest, he says, stems from an anxious world seeking refuge. “We’re designing sanctuaries; spaces to slow down and ground oneself. Longevity has become the new luxury, and wellness a sort of secular spirituality of self-betterment.” From Saint Haven’s minimalist Japanese-bathhouse aesthetic to Du Puy’s quietly monastic terraces, Australia’s wellness architecture is converging on a single idea: health as habitat.
Undoubtedly the new frontier of health is not how we move, rest and eat, but how we measure it. Australians are beginning to treat personal metrics as something to collect, compare and act upon. Where fitness trackers made steps and sleep mainstream, online services such as Biolume Health extend the logic to bloodwork and biomarkers.
“Biolume gives people direct access to advanced testing and trend tracking,” says Dr Nikki Fisicaro, one of the platform’s longevity specialists. “It bridges the gap between functional medicine and everyday access. Australians have long engaged with the health system only when something goes wrong, but platforms like this invite a new mindset; a shift from sick care to health optimisation.”
Fisicaro believes metrics can motivate, if they’re interpreted wisely. “If your sleep score is low, a biomarker test might reveal a magnesium deficiency or a hormone imbalance. Wearables can be encouraging, but biomarkers are diagnostic.”
But too much tracking, she adds, can have the opposite effect. “Following every metric can create more anxiety than insight. Tests should come with context; changes to diet, sleep, stress or therapy. Information only helps if it leads to action.”
Fisicaro sees this appetite for precision as a natural evolution. “Patients are becoming participants in their own biology,” she says. “They’re comparing themselves to what’s optimal, not just what’s normal.” Artificial intelligence is accelerating that shift, though it also has limits. “AI can master the science of medicine, but not the art; the judgment that comes from experience and human presence.”
She points to emerging research that uses wearable sensors and AI to estimate “vascular age”; a dynamic marker of cardiovascular risk that can be tracked in real time. “It’s where medicine is heading,” she says. “Prevention informed by live data.”
If the pursuit of wellness has invaded our gyms and homes, beauty was its first willing host. What began as “clean beauty” has evolved into biological beauty, where skincare meets neuroscience, with the gut as central to our glow as a serum. Retailers such as Mecca have expanded from selling cosmetics to curating lifestyles, with collagen powders and adaptogenic skincare displayed beside lipstick.
As chief Mecca-maginations officer Marita Burke explains, Australians’ idea of beauty has widened dramatically. “We’re more informed and connected than ever. People are open to holistic practices like breathwork, acupuncture and Ayurveda – things that once felt niche are now part of everyday routines. It shows this bigger cultural shift; people aren’t separating how they look from how they live anymore. Wellness is becoming a daily habit, something that helps you manage stress, recharge and support long-term health.”
The shift reflects a broader appetite for products working below the surface. Australians are increasingly opting
for skincare that comes with claims of its own wellness benefits.
And that shift is also shaping how we travel. “Before covid we were chasing experiences,” says Katherine Droga, chair of the Global Wellness Institute’s Wellness Tourism Initiative. “Now we’re chasing equilibrium. The biggest motivator is to de-stress.”
This year, Australians reported a drop in their overall wellbeing, particularly with regards to sleep, physical, financial and mental wellness, according to GWIs 2025 Wellness Survey. “Balance is slipping for Australians – financially, physically and emotionally,” Droga says. “Annual-leave stockpiling is leaving people exhausted and disconnected. Too many people are postponing their rest, when in reality shorter, more frequent breaks are proven to have a greater positive impact on wellbeing.”
That motivation is changing what we pack and where we go, with the annual survey revealing more than half of Aussies planning a holiday in the next year intend to incorporate a wellness component such as restorative bathing, time in nature or mindfulness practices in their itineraries. Travellers are choosing destinations that blend rest with measurable outcomes. “The new luxury is time with people who matter,” Droga says. “And experiences that help you live better, not just longer.”
Even off the clock, data travels with us. Nearly half of Australians now use wellness technology on holiday, checking recovery scores between spa treatments. “We’re tuning in to tune off,” Droga says. And when travellers return home, they bring the rituals with them; the ice baths, personalised nutrition and nature walks.
After two decades of an increasing health focus, Australia’s wellness experiment shows no sign of slowing. And if experts and evolving trends are any indication, the next step will be figuring out how to interpret this growing cache of personal and collective health data and determining exactly what to do with it.
This story is from the December issue of WISH.
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