Featured articles
Featured articles
Featured articles
What's next
Featured articles
Featured articles
Featured articles
Ready to know more about San Diego?
SubscribeReady to know more about San Diego?
Contributor Katy Stegall reflects on the overlooked costs of plus-sized fashion today
Recently, I met someone and shared with them that I grew up in a single-wide trailer. He acted surprised. He said I didn’t look like I had.
I was immediately defensive. What exactly does a person raised in a trailer park look like? I wanted to ask. But I already knew the idea he had in his head: Chain-smoking in clothes that haven’t fit right in five years, dollar-store eyeshadow, and a sweat-slick messy bun in a yard littered with trash. This low-income white persona is one I often fear emulating.
And while this image is nothing like my quiet trailer park back home in Big Bear, people have ideas, and I’m painfully aware of them.
We live in a society that hates poor people. We also live in a society that hates fat people, and since I grew up checking both of these boxes, I have often felt the need to overcompensate to avoid being stereotyped.
I wish I had the privilege thinner women have of showing up to work with no makeup on, in jeans and a t-shirt. But I’m terrified of being seen as lazy or unkept. I overwork to the point of burnout out of a fear of being perceived as careless. My love for makeup doesn’t stem from some artistic appreciation, but from the dread of being read as messy.
It all adds up. It’s expensive to look good when you’re overweight.
Because let me tell you, clothes for fat women aren’t cheap—even if the material they’re made from is. The most size-accessible stores are usually a few trend cycles behind. Some of the options are actually horrific. Shops like Torrid, the plus-size clothing store that holds the monopoly in this market, are still trying to sell us cold-shoulder tops. The trend died over 10 years ago in straight-sized fashion, but I have yet to escape it.
Since I can’t afford the overpriced choices, I add them to the wish list, wait, then hope a major sale comes along before the few items I want are sold out.
It’s worth it for the consistent compliments I receive on my cute dresses and flawless makeup, but I wish all this overthinking and overspending wasn’t necessary.
I have spent an egregious amount of money to avoid looking like I didn’t have money, and that comment—that I don’t match someone’s idea of what a trailer park kid looks like—had me feeling proud… while simultaneously being embarrassed for feeling that pride.
I wish I could just live like everyone else. Some days looking good, and some days just getting out the door. But that’s not an option for someone like me.
From getting your sweat on at hip-hop class to celebrating with a zero-proof cocktail, here are San Diego's top fitness and wellness spots
For thousands of years, the Kumeyaay who lived in this area called a mountain south of Julian Cush-pii, meaning “sharp peak.” Then, after the Civil War, Confederate sympathizers saw that same mountain and decided to rename it Stonewall Peak—after General Stonewall Jackson. The name stuck for nearly a century and a half, until Cuyamaca Rancho State Park announced earlier this year that the name will return to its original, Cush-pii. Hike to the summit for expansive views of the Coronado Islands to the west and Mexico to the south.
In 1993, Angie Bunch gathered a group of hip-hop dancers—called Culture Shock Dance Troupe—and gave them a space to practice and perform. As hip hop grew through the ’90s, so did Culture Shock. It has since become a nonprofit, a space for young and old, beginner and expert dancers. Culture Shock has also expanded to Los Angeles, Oakland, Las Vegas, Chicago, Atlanta, New York City, and Washington, D.C., as well as Ottawa and Toronto, Canada.
In 2019, Amanda Leach created the Yoga Box method, which takes high-energy flows and adds strength-building poses in heated, vibey, lava-lamp-lit studios. What started on Grand Avenue in Pacific Beach has spread to 15 locations across the county, with even more trickling into Denver, Chicago, and Brooklyn. The best part? Mindfulness newbies who can’t touch their toes and six-packed contortionists can hang in the same class. You can customize each session based on your ability and fitness level.
A gym taking over a historic beachfront pool sounds like the setup for a new season of Love Island, but Fit Mission Beach operating the nearly 100-year-old Plunge at Belmont Park is real. The independent fitness brand has spent the past several years building a loyal following through group fitness classes, community events, and a members’ social club overlooking the ocean. Upstairs, members can work remotely, meet friends, or hang out long after their workout ends. Between the Plunge, the coworking-style lounge, and a packed calendar of events, Fit has evolved into something bigger than a gym. It’s a clubhouse for San Diego’s fitness crowd.
The wellness world is finally transitioning away from HIIT workouts and cult-like spin classes, where your heart rate hits Zone 5 within minutes and stays there until cooldown. Good. At Breathe Degrees, wellness takes the form of zenned-out communal breathing sessions or vagus nerve–activating cold plunges. Breathwork is said to boost your mood in the short term and improve your heart health in the long term, and maybe that’s why everyone’s coming back for more. You can’t run into someone in Carlsbad who hasn’t dropped into at least one breathwork session, and now the studio has opened a second location in Liberty Station.
Pilates wasn’t just popular this year; it was practically a requirement for maintaining your San Diego residency. New studios seemed to appear weekly across San Diego, each promising stronger cores and better posture, but Soul Pilates and Care found a way to stand out by addressing a challenge many parents know well: finding time to exercise at all. Fitness doesn’t have to compete with parenting responsibilities. Parents can drop their kids off with trained caregivers while they head into reformer classes, eliminating one of the biggest barriers to working out. The studio has earned strong reviews for both its instruction and family-friendly approach.
The Hotel del Coronado’s sweeping $550 million restoration touched nearly every corner of the historic resort, but one of the most anticipated unveilils was the debut of its redesigned spa. The oceanfront wellness destination now features 21 treatment rooms, a relaxation lounge, a sauna, steam room, and a treatment menu inspired by the coastal environment just steps away. The redesign blends the Del’s Victorian legacy with a cleaner, more contemporary aesthetic, creating a space that feels distinctly SoCal rather than generic luxury hotel. For locals who don’t have time for a vacation, it’s the next best thing.
As non-alcoholic beverages continue their meteoric rise, Good News Bar has become one of San Diego’s most compelling arguments for a booze-free evening. The University Heights hotspot serves a menu of carefully crafted zero-proof cocktails that borrow techniques and ingredients from traditional cocktail programs (it’s not just fancy juices and soda water), minus the hangover. The space also hosts regular community events and has quickly become a gathering place for everyone from sober San Diegans to the merely sober-curious. In a nightlife industry built around alcohol sales, Good News proved there’s plenty of demand for connection without the buzz.
For a city that lives outdoors, these hometown makers understand exactly what your complexion is up against
San Diego has always worshipped at the altar of good skin. Equal parts surf town, biotech hub, and wellness capital, it’s a city where lunch breaks become beach walks and sunscreen sits beside car keys by the front door. The products that get used here earn their place. With 266 sunny days a year and one of the highest rates of skin cancer in the country, we take skincare seriously. Dr. Bronner’s has been making soap in North County since the 1960s. Sun Bum was born in Encinitas and is now on shelves in over 70 countries. The tradition runs deep.
“Living in San Diego means your skin is exposed to sun almost every day of the year,” says Sue Zhang, M.D., a San Diego physician specializing in aesthetic medicine. “The products that tend to succeed here are the ones that can keep up with daily life, UV exposure, sweat, and movement, while still supporting long-term skin health.”
From a mineral powder that solves the sunscreen-over-makeup problem to an acorn oil serum rooted in Indigenous plant medicine, the local San Diego shelf is more diverse, and comprehensive, than most of us realize.
A hydrating gel-oil hybrid that applies like a body treatment and leaves skin with a sheen that reads as healthy rather than oily. La Jolla–founded Kopari built its reputation on cold-pressed coconut oil sourced from family farms in the Philippines, and the Sun Shield Body Glow SPF is exactly that in summer form: coverage that doubles as skincare.
The name is intentional. The founder got a basal cell carcinoma diagnosis that his dermatologist caught—she’s now his business partner. The question he couldn’t shake was why the skincare industry hadn’t yet figured out how to talk to men, and 4-Skin is the answer: a premium sunscreen and skincare line built around the kind of blunt, self-aware humor that gets guys to pay attention. Men’s skincare has needed this for a long time, and the formulas are serious enough to deliver.
Carlsbad-based Coola was formulating organic SPF before “clean sunscreen” was a marketing category, and the Classic Face Sunscreen is the brand’s thesis: protection that disappears into skin and layers cleanly under makeup. Sheer and lightly hydrating, it makes sunscreen easy to reapply before an afternoon walk at Torrey Pines.
Squalane, argan, jojoba, and CoQ10: a short ingredient list that does a lot. The Glow Finishing Oil from Mission Hills wellness sanctuary Saffron and Sage is plant-based, scientifically grounded, and formulated to absorb rather than sit on the skin. The brand started as an integrative health practice where acupuncture, naturopathic care, and functional medicine share a roof, and the skincare line runs on the same philosophy.
The Restorative Skin Complex is powered by TriHex+, a patented peptide blend developed by Carlsbad-based Alastin’s team of SkinMedica veterans. It promises to clear out damaged collagen and elastin while supporting new production, the kind of gradual improvement that makes a product hard to quit.
Beldi is a multi-functional cleansing tradition rooted in Moroccan hammam culture, dating back over 12 centuries. Alia Jouj is the brand’s flagship product, and San Diego–based founder Dr. Mia Chae Reddy built a brand around it. Alia Jouj uses 100 percent organic, cold-pressed argan oil and the same ancient saponification method to produce a honey-thick liquid cleanser that softens skin without stripping it.
Acorn oil has been used by California’s Indigenous communities as plant medicine for generations. Ruth-Ann Thorn, an enrolled member of the Rincon Band of Luiseño Indians, built N8iV around it as the first Native American–owned skincare brand to reach the national mainstream. The Móyla Moon Polish, named for the Luiseño word for moon, is an exfoliant centered on acorn oil Thorn gathers herself each year from the La Jolla reservation. Find it at the Gaslamp Quarter store Thorn owns at the historic Yuma Building.
This product solved the reapplication problem. As a brush applicator, this mineral SPF goes over makeup without disturbing it, which is why it has been on derm-office retail shelves in Carlsbad and beyond for over two decades. The tinted version doubles as foundation.
This steroid-free, petroleum-free eczema treatment was built specifically for babies and toddlers (although grown-ups can use it, too). It’s centered on FDA-approved 1 percent colloidal oatmeal with a base of sunflower seed oil, beeswax, and jojoba. The “linoleic-acid-rich sunflower oil is helpful for atopic, eczema-prone skin that is often deficient in that fatty acid,” says Dr. Zhang. Gentle enough for newborns, safe for daily use, and tested by both pediatricians and dermatologists.
The Mandelic Night Serum pairs mandelic acid, an AHA derived from almonds and gentler than glycolic acid on sensitive skin, with lactic acid, niacinamide, and urea to brighten, smooth texture, and reduce breakouts overnight. Fragrance-free, vegan, cruelty-free. The brand name is the initials of the founder’s five daughters, pronounced like courage. Dr. Zhang also says she “really value[s] [the founder’s] mission to create pregnancy-safe skincare products that are both effective and wallet-friendly.”
Ingrid Yang, M.D., J.D. is a hospital-based physician in San Diego, CA, certified yoga therapist, and longevity specialist. She loves *double hearts* San Diego and spends her days helping people fully engage in long, healthy lives through evidence-based lifestyle medicine. Her books include Adaptive Yoga, Zen Mindfulness, and Hatha Yoga Asanas. When she’s not leading international wellness retreats, she is chasing sunsets, handstanding in nature, or geeking out over mitochondria.
The Carlsbad-based concept has exploded nationally by turning men’s health clinics into man caves
Rub some dirt on it. Walk it off. Be a man. The tropes and reasons for men ignoring their health and doing preventive care are many, reinforced by action heroes and generational norms. As a result, compared to American women, American men live an average of five years less, seek healthcare treatment half as often, and die by suicide nearly four times more often.
Many national campaigns have tried to change this. This year’s “Relax Your Tight End” ad from Novartis during the Super Bowl—in which NFL legends advocated for early prostate cancer screenings—was a high-profile example. Meanwhile, in San Diego, Evan Miller seems to have figured it out.
Miller founded Gameday Men’s Health in 2018 as a small clinic in Carlsbad. The idea was to create a space men would actually want to spend time in. So he built Gameday to feel more like a sports bar or a man cave—snacks, sports on oversized, high-def flat screens in the waiting room. He personalized the care for each client, made the experience more casual, and, above all, efficient. If the wait for payoff is too long, Miller says, men won’t show up for their health.
“We need to feel better quick,” he says. “So that’s where the real hook with Gameday is: It’s fast; it works quick.”
The idea has worked. Big time.
Gameday now has 430 locations spread across 46 US states and parts of Canada, with hundreds more set to open over the next three years.
Prior to Gameday, Miller—who has a Ph.D. in clinical psychology—ran Akua Mind Body, an addiction treatment center in Newport Beach. After selling the center, Miller says he searched for a new way to help his community.
He drew from his behavioral health training and dispiriting past experiences with “sketchy” men’s clinics, albeit with a slightly different concept at first.
“My original idea for Gameday, funny enough, was men’s group therapy,” Miller says. “I wanted to put it in this ‘man cave’ environment because I knew guys wouldn’t show up otherwise.”
Initially envisioned as safe spaces to encourage men to open up emotionally, Miller pivoted to a more clinical approach with an athletic design that personally appealed to him. Soon, it evolved into a one-stop shop of compounded medication treatments for weight loss plans, hair loss treatments, anti-aging injections, sexual wellness strategies, and testosterone replacement therapy. The hotly debated trend of peptides—mini amino acid proteins that the FDA has yet to approve—has become a popular feature.
New patients undergo in-clinic assessments for testosterone and prostate levels with the goal of producing test results in just a quarter of an hour. “Our philosophy with our treatments is we only do what the research supports,” Miller says.
An Orange County native, Miller found Carlsbad to be a natural headquarters. He found a much bigger market in coastal North County of men seeking a boost—both in their marriages and their overall livelihoods. The pandemic proved to be a watershed moment, with front-yard gyms and outdoor, highly visible exercise sparking a wave of self-care. According to Cleveland Clinic, after the pandemic, about 20 percent of men started to exercise more and eat healthier, with a quarter of men reporting they scheduled more sleep and spent more time with family.
“When Covid happened, [suddenly] everyone looked in the mirror and was like, ‘I need to take care of my health; I have to do everything possible to get in shape,’” Miller says.
Two years after Gameday first began, Miller opened a second clinic in Temecula, followed by locations in Laguna Beach and Newport. Demand kept coming, so they started franchising in 2023. They sold 1,000 licenses in the first year. By 2025, they had over 400 clinics across the country.
When asked about the rapid growth, Miller cites the feedback he received along the way: “People were so excited about men’s health, cash-pay medicine, and not having to wait for insurance. They understood the model. It was for guys; it felt like ESPN meets healthcare.”
Now Miller says Gameday is starting to map out a global expansion—to Europe, Latin America, and the Middle East. Since the company first cultivated a following, Miller says there have been persistent questions about whether Gameday would ever expand its focus to include women. Their answer: Her Way.
“We only offer a very narrow menu, almost like In-N-Out Burger, because we stay in our lane, we do it really, really well, and we gain trust that way,” Miller says. “So we created the Her Way model to do the same thing for women [that] we’ve done with men.”
Her Way Health & Hormones launched in 2024 in clinics with more neutral and calming décor. With locations in Carlsbad and Mission Valley, it will officially start franchising this summer. Miller seems incapable of thinking small and expects around 1,000 Her Way locations to open nationwide within a few years.
Ryan Hardison is a freelance arts and entertainment writer and recent graduate of San Diego State. When he's not staring at his laptop, he's likely eating an adobada burrito or getting sunburnt at the beach.
Behind every beautiful space is a thoughtful process, and ASID San Diego is helping homeowners understand the value of professional design.
A perfectly designed home rarely happens by accident. Those kitchens that feel effortless and rooms that seem to tell a story the second you walk in? They’re usually the work of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.
It’s knowing which ideas will actually work, which materials will hold up over time, and how to turn a collection of choices into a space that feels intentional. That’s where a professional interior designer comes in.
For the American Society of Interior Designers (ASID) California San Diego Chapter, the goal is to help people see interior design as more than just the finished look. Behind every well-designed space is a process built on technical expertise. Designers are educated in everything from professional software and construction details to building codes, space planning, materials, and functionality.
“People don’t always realize how much goes on behind the scenes,” Kirsten Recce , current president of the ASID California San Diego Chapter, says. “Our designers are not just doing furniture placement and color selection and picking out new fluffy pillows. That’s not what they’re trained for.”
ASID members bring formal education, continued learning, and industry knowledge to their projects, helping create spaces that are not only beautiful, but designed to work. A paint color that changes completely depending on the lighting. A material that looks beautiful in a showroom but doesn’t make sense for everyday life. A layout that photographs well but doesn’t function for the people living there. These are the details where professional guidance can make all the difference.
Still, one of the biggest misconceptions about hiring an interior designer is that it’s reserved for massive renovations, luxury homes, or people who already know exactly what they want. The process can feel intimidating. Where do you begin? Is a designer worth the investment? What if you only need help with one room?
ASID’s answer: start with one hour.
ASID’s Spruce Up events break down one of the biggest barriers between homeowners and professional design: knowing where to begin. Held twice a year, the community program gives homeowners the chance to work directly with an ASID designer through a one-hour, $125 consultation in their own home. Whether you’re looking for advice on furniture placement, window treatments, kitchen and bath updates, remodeling ideas, vacation rentals, color selections or something else entirely, the upcoming September 2026 event offers an approachable way to get expert guidance before committing to a full project. Signups are open through Sept. 7, with consultations taking place Sept. 21 through Oct. 31. Proceeds benefit ASID San Diego’s educational and community programs. Register here!
“It’s a great opportunity for people who are in that exploratory phase,” Recce says. “Maybe they’re not sure they want to hire an interior designer yet, or they think it sounds daunting or expensive. This gives them a chance to discover what working with a designer is actually like.”
Design is personal. A good designer isn’t just creating a beautiful room; they’re helping create a space that fits the way someone lives.
“We’re a resource to all of San Diego County,” Recce says. “It doesn’t cost anything to pick up the phone and call and ask. We’ll answer.”
Follow ASID San Diego on Instagram, LinkedIn, and Facebook for updates on upcoming events, or connect with the chapter directly at [email protected] or 619-548-8847.
With wellness-centered lifestyles on the rise, party culture is getting a 10 p.m. rebrand
A ’90s pop hit is blasting as I drive up to Solana Beach to go dancing. I’m dressed in the millennial nightlife uniform: black tee, cute jeans, heels. It is 6:30 p.m. on a Tuesday. The dance party starts soon. I’ll be home by 10 p.m. at the latest. I may even catch an episode of Summer House.
I am acutely aware of my age in this moment. I haven’t willingly chosen the club life since my 20s and early 30s. Yet here I am, transported back to 2014 with a few more wrinkles, a lot more ibuprofen, and a touch of “pandemic stole this from me” in my pocket.
A few days earlier, a friend texted to suggest we go to a concert the upcoming weekend. “I can’t, I’m already tired on Friday,” I replied. At 42, two glasses of cabernet bend my space-time equilibrium. A hard sneeze risks a sprained neck. Did I mention the perimenopausal night sweats yet?
I arrive at the Belly Up at 7 p.m. Wilson Phillips comes on the stereo, and I sing-shout the lyrics before stepping out of the car.
Someday, somebody’s gonna make you want to turn around and say goodbye | Until then, baby, are you gonna let ’em hold you down and make you cry?
Tonight’s event is billed as “the dance party that starts earlier.” Surprisingly, I’m not the oldest person in the room. A 60-something man shoulder bops to the DJ set. A Gen X woman shimmies by and snaps photos of the glow-stick-spinning raver on stage. Few are drinking.
Started by two North County locals, Amal Chandaria (32) and Max Gold (37), Earlier is a dance party for older adults who want a club experience without the sleep-deprived, hungover physical toll. Running 6:30 to 10 p.m., attendees get home at a reasonable hour for a full night’s sleep.
Seems I’m not alone in my tired.
“[We’re in] a time where loneliness is high, people are craving connection,” says Chandaria. “One thing we were really intentional about is that you don’t need to go and have drinks to have fun. It’s about the music and getting the wiggles out.”
Early is part of a national trend: the green-juice-ifying of party culture. Americans aren’t going out as much as they used to. They’re drinking less, and 10 p.m. has become the new 2 a.m. Wellness as a lifestyle concept is old hat, and each generation manifests itself in different forms (fitness booms in the ’80s, organic food in the 2000s).
According to a 2024 survey by consulting firm McKinsey & Company, the US wellness market now exceeds $500 billion annually, up from roughly $300–$350 billion a decade ago. More striking than the spend: Wellness as a top priority has surged from about 42 percent in 2020 to more than 80 percent today.
The timing makes sense. Studies show Covid led to long-term shifts in lifestyle patterns. We all began to reassess our lives and made some existential changes—like 6 p.m. soberish dance parties. In a recent Gallup poll, only 54 percent of US adults reported drinking alcohol, the lowest level in about 30 years. Conversations around longevity turned “treat yourself” into “invest in yourself.”
The downer of any wellness trend, though, has been the “can’t” philosophy—can’t eat that cake, can’t sip that marg, can’t binge that show. What if we could do health stuff and still dance and not totally suck the joy out of life? That’s what people like Chandaria and Gold are banking on.
Last year when they attended Atomic Groove—a variety dance band from 5–8 p.m. most Fridays at Belly Up—it sparked an idea. “People want to be healthy and active, and they don’t want to compromise on that by not feeling rested,” says Gold. “I thought, ‘I bet if we’re feeling this way, other people are looking for something like this, too.’”
He was right. Nearly 200 people showed up to the pair’s first dance party last July. Tonight’s crowd is nearing that number again. Among them is Cardiff-by-the-Sea resident and second-time attendee Lauren Marley.
“If you do one thing for yourself—and it means that you don’t have to be completely exhausted and wrecked for all the stuff you have to do the next morning—it’s great,” she says.
Though EDM isn’t quite my thing (give me some stank-face hip-hop from the 2000s), it’s clear from the number of return attendees that Chandaria and Gold have filled a need, one that isn’t just in famously health-forward cities like San Diego.
In DC, Dancing on the Waterfront occurs every Saturday from 5–9 p.m. while Extended Play DC wraps up at 10 p.m. Philly has Matinee Dance Party (5–10 p.m.). New York City finally chooses to sleep, with Friday Feeling and Matinee Social Club both ending at 10 p.m. Last year, Day Shift, geared toward those over 30, debuted at Bloom Nightclub in San Diego.
In Chicago, Earlybirds Club was founded in 2023 by high school friends Laura Baginski and Susie Lee. About 100 people showed up to the sold-out “dance party for ladies who got shit to do in the morning.” Two years later, Earlybirds Club is now held in nearly 60 cities and regions across the US.
“It’s an outlet that [middle-aged women] don’t get in our everyday life,” says Baginski, who also recently appeared on the Kelly Clarkson Show to share their story. “It’s movement and dance. We’ve learned now that it’s really essential to being a happy person.”
Admittedly, it’s a bit harder to be happy when I walk into the Music Box for Earlybirds’ event in San Diego. War’s about to start, protests are the new social gathering, and the economy is gaslighting me into believing salads should cost $18.
But soon the club is a sea of 700 people wanting to dance their asses off. Any negative emotions quickly begin to disappear. Tonight’s music features hits from the ’80s, ’90s, and 2000s: Madonna, Britney, Christina, 50 Cent, Ludacris.
Shuffling past the bar to the already-crowded dance floor, my heartbeat quickens. Pure, unadulterated joy is oozing in this place.
“The whole club was women’s bathroom culture,” said returning attendee and San Marcos resident Beth Avant, 50. “[You get to] freely dance, not care about what you’re wearing, you’re not trying to really impress people.” Soon Whitney Houston’s golden pipes set the room on fire, arms raise, smile lines deepen, and for a few hours, nothing else matters.
Oh, I wanna dance with somebody / I wanna feel the heat of somebody
While Baginski continues to run the operation, Lee lost her battle with stage IV metastatic breast cancer in August of last year. Honoring her memory at each event are words from Lee herself: “Sing f**king loud, dance like nobody gives a shit, and remember who the f**k you are.”
And who we are are sleepy people. If this new wellness era really takes off, imagine the possibilities. Dinner dates at 5 p.m., the Super Bowl at 2 p.m. EST, Justin Bieber headlining Coachella at 7 p.m. Until then, you’ll find me in bed shooting down plans past 8 p.m.
Nicolle Monico is an award-winning writer and the director of creative projects, digital editor for San Diego Magazine with more than 19 years of experience in media including Outside Run, JustLuxe and The San Francisco Chronicle.
San Diegans are turning their houses into longevity spaces by prioritizing function and feeling
Kelvins. If you’re anything like me, you probably haven’t thought about them since high school chemistry. Lately, though, they’ve become one of the more hotly debated measurements in interior design.
Kelvins measure the color temperature of light, which is a technical way of saying they’re key to whether a room feels calming or slightly unsettling. The wrong Kelvin temperature can suddenly give your bedroom the vibe of a hospital corridor. Warmer Kelvin temperatures cue relaxation. Cooler ones sharpen alertness. Interior designers now talk about Kelvins the way chefs talk about salt: invisible when it’s right, immediately obvious when it’s not.
That focus on light reflects a broader shift in San Diego homes—people are worried less about how spaces look and more about how they hold you over the course of a day. Design decisions now favor what fades into the background and silently improves daily life. And once you start thinking that way, it’s hard not to apply the same logic to everything else in the house.
My husband and I felt that impulse firsthand last year while shopping for a mattress. We spent multiple weekends wandering the showrooms at Westfield UTC, lying on beds in our outside clothes, asking questions about spinal alignment, breathability, and temperature regulation. We debated coils versus foam, read studies on sleep stages and thermoregulation, and compared notes in the parking lot like two people deciding whether to buy a house.
Eventually, we chose the Saatva Contour—a name that sounds more like a luxury sedan than something you sleep on. That felt fitting, given the amount of deliberation we put into it. We picked it for its spinal support and ability to dissipate heat through the night, two factors consistently tied to deeper, less fragmented sleep. At the time, it felt overly academic, but it made its case experientially: We experience fewer disruptions at night and wake with the unexpected sense of being genuinely rested.
Eventually, I realized that our search had been less about shopping for comfort and more about shopping for recovery.
Now when I wake up, I usually head straight to our little sauna, which sounds much more impressive than it actually is. It sits just outside the house, tucked into a narrow corner of our small backyard. Technically, it’s meant to live indoors, but we adapted it for outdoor use because that was the only place it would fit. The door closes with a soft thud; the scent of cedar blooms as the heat sets in. Inside, there’s a single bench and barely room to stretch my legs. It isn’t glamorous, but the science on sauna use is compelling: Regular heat exposure has been linked to improved cardiovascular health, reduced inflammation, and more efficient recovery via circulation and the nervous system. To me, its real value is something simpler—a few quiet minutes that are mine before the day and its noise begin to make their claims on me.
For a long time, luxury meant square footage, statement kitchens, and bonus rooms designed to impress people who don’t actually live there. Homeowners are making different choices today.
“These days, the questions my clients ask are, ‘Will I actually use this?’” says James Denton, senior architectural and interior designer and owner of James Denton Design. “‘Will it help me sleep better? Will it simplify my routines?’”
Interior designer Maegan Ayukonchong, owner of M. Swabb Interior Design Collective, sees that shift in nearly every project. Clients want layouts that reduce friction, storage that actually functions, and spaces that feel uncrowded. “It’s less about filling rooms,” she says, “and more about designing homes that support how people want to live.”
That recalibration accelerated during the pandemic, when homes were suddenly forced to perform at full capacity. Living rooms became offices, kitchens became classrooms, closets became refuges for phone sessions with your therapist. Denton says he noticed clients suddenly confronting how their homes actually functioned.
Ashley Chavez, a realtor with Compass Real Estate in San Diego, watched the same awareness show up in buyer behavior. “After spending so much uninterrupted time at home, buyers started noticing things they used to overlook,” she says, like the amount of natural light, how rooms flow into one another, and whether spaces feel peaceful or overstimulating.
Health conversations widened beyond workouts to include sleep, stress, and recovery, areas where the home environment plays a defining role. Chavez notes that buyers may not use the word “wellness,” but their priorities are clear. “Clients comment on how a home feels,” she says. “They notice whether bedrooms are quiet, whether the layout supports their routines without constant adjustment.”
The results show up in what people choose to build and invest in. Spare bedrooms become infrared saunas. Massage chairs edge out media consoles. Red light panels replace bar carts, delivering low-level light that supports cellular repair, muscle recovery, skin health, and circadian signaling (it’s worth noting that cocktails pretty much do the opposite of all that). Rooms once dedicated to entertaining are reimagined for restoration.
Clement Qaqish drops into a chaise in the living room of his Solana Beach home with the familiarity of someone used to managing fatigue. A maxillofacial surgeon by day and an endurance athlete by choice, he’s completed 14 full Ironman races and a dozen Half Ironmans. “When you’re training this much, recovery isn’t optional,” Qaqish says. “And even if you’re not doing Ironmans, your body still has to recover—from stress, from sitting, from whatever you ask of it.”
Normatec compression boots sit coiled on the floor beside him—long black sleeves that look part medical device, part sci-fi costume. He slides his feet in one at a time, zipping them up to the thighs. They inflate, with air pulsing upward in slow waves, rhythmically compressing his legs to push blood and lymphatic fluid back toward his heart. The soft mechanical whir fills the room. The goal is faster recovery and less soreness after heavy training. “Most people wait until [their legs are] broken,” he says, smiling slightly. “I’d rather not get there.”
When Qaqish and his wife, Gabby Galleo, a biotech executive, moved into the house, those priorities shaped the abode early on. “The first thing I bought for our home was an infrared sauna for Clem’s birthday,” Galleo says. “Once we had the space, it just made sense.”
From there, the rest followed naturally: a Nordic Wave Cold Plunge on the patio (to support nervous-system resilience and curb inflammation), compression boots by the couch, a red light mask on the armoire (to promote cellular repair and skin tone). Tools more commonly found in a training facility or high-tech spa are folded into the feng shui of the home. With all the tech scattered around the house, “it’s easier to do it than to avoid it,” Galleo says. “You’re just moving through your day, and it’s there. We didn’t want it to feel like a production. If it required driving somewhere or scheduling around it, we knew we wouldn’t do it consistently.”
While fancy equipment certainly helps you unwind after a hard workout, most of the changes that make a home extra restful can be accomplished without hiring a contractor or taking out a loan for the latest technology.
“Editing is the new flex,” Ayukonchong says. “The most impactful shifts are often the simplest ones: Add live plants for a fresh, calming boost; reorganize storage; replace heavy window treatments with breathable linens to soften natural light.”
In general, lighting is a low-cost approach to achieve an outsized impact. Denton recommends “warmer tones in bedrooms for relaxation, cooler bulbs in workspaces for focus, and dimmers that let rooms shift with the day,” (gotta get those Kelvins right!).
From there, he turns to details most of us overlook, even as research increasingly shows how powerfully they shape how we think and feel. “Start with acoustics. They are key to reducing stress and mental fatigue,” he says. According to research from the University of California, Davis, chronic background noise raises stress hormones and cognitive fatigue, which is why oversized rugs and soft window treatments that dampen sound can matter just as much as aesthetics.
And you can double up on the boons from your houseplants by intentionally placing mirrors near or across from them. Studies on biophilic design link visual exposure to greenery—even if it’s reflected—with improved mood and lower stress, while blank walls offer no such benefit.
Air quality is the final layer. Indoor air can be more polluted than outdoor air, and poor ventilation has been associated with headaches, brain fog, and disrupted sleep. Simple upgrades, like higher-grade HVAC filters or a modest air purifier, address a problem quietly and persistently affects many homes.
Even simply designating one chair for reading, one corner for stretching, or one surface for tea or journaling can reshape how a home functions. Research in environmental psychology suggests that context-dependent cues help the brain switch states more efficiently, making it easier to relax or focus when an activity is consistently paired with a specific place. Over time, the space itself becomes a signal, reducing decision fatigue and allowing the nervous system to settle more quickly.
Dr. Jenn Chang, a physical therapist, yoga therapist, and founder of The Movement Mechanic PT, walks me through her small Carmel Valley condo. “I didn’t have room to include things casually,” she says. “Everything had to earn its place.”
In her home office, where she sees clients, a yoga wall with mounted bars and straps that support alignment and traction anchors one side of the room. “It feels like a bonus,” she says. “I can use it with patients, but it’s also there for my own practice.”
In the garage, an infrared sauna sits snugly against the wall. Despite the condo’s limited storage, Chang is careful to keep the area around it uncluttered. “If the space starts filling up, the sauna stops feeling inviting,” she explains. “I notice that right away.”
Aerial yoga hammocks hang from the ceiling for her kids (with safety mats below). A compact Swedish ladder supports dead hangs and calisthenics and doubles as something her children climb on. A vibrating foam roller and a Theragun are stored nearby. “The easier it is to use and put away,” Chang says, “the more likely it becomes part of your day.”
For a long time, I resisted getting a cold plunge myself. It felt unnecessary, even a little excessive. But after spending time with people who treated it as just another part of the house, I eventually purchased one, setting it up on my patio, steps away from the sauna that shields me from notifications and the mattress that we spent so long researching. All together, they offer me permission to do less, move a little slower, incorporate recovery into my everyday life. In a culture that never stops asking what’s next, that feels like the most radical thing.
Ingrid Yang, M.D., J.D. is a hospital-based physician in San Diego, CA, certified yoga therapist, and longevity specialist. She loves *double hearts* San Diego and spends her days helping people fully engage in long, healthy lives through evidence-based lifestyle medicine. Her books include Adaptive Yoga, Zen Mindfulness, and Hatha Yoga Asanas. When she’s not leading international wellness retreats, she is chasing sunsets, handstanding in nature, or geeking out over mitochondria.
The William and Mary Jane Rohn Brain Tumor and Brain Metastases Clinical Care and Research Program provides expert care and innovation
Central nervous system tumors are some of the most complex conditions in medicine. Scripps Cancer Center committed to expanding its neuro-oncology services, and has recruited some of the top medical professionals in their field, including neurosurgeon Jeremy Ciporen, MD, and neuro-oncologist and researcher Tresa McGranahan, MD, PhD. But that was just the start. Expert nurses, sophisticated imaging and surgical equipment were also added with philanthropic support. Most importantly, Scripps Cancer Center designed a program that puts the patient at the center of it all. Click here to read more about Scripps’ neuro-oncology program, and here for more on the pair of donors for which it’s named.
For more nutrition, wellness, and healthy living tips, sign up for the San Diego Health newsletter here.
