• Jessica Taylor Yates

Soul Cycle: Does It Work?

Y'all...Soul Cycle is COOKED.

Image: GIPHY


This has been republished with permission from Japes' Place, LA, 2016


Guys. Soul Cycle is some seriously fucked up shit.


Image: Supplied


The company


I'll paint the picture.

For Australians, just think creepy Boost Juice employees x 1000.


There's a company here in LA called SoulCycle (SC) which has popped up all over LA and NYC. It's an expensive spin class franchise where you 'find your soul with your family'.


Guys. There was no soul choir. I felt cheated af.


I walk into Cycle Cult.

Image: Supplied


The People


Everyone is in SC gear, drinking out of SC bottles with SC shoes. They are all friends, although all they seem to discuss is how great their last SC class was, their favourite SC instructor (all instructors are on first name basis even though their first names are last names - 'Cooper, Carter, Anderson's class etc. GET A REAL NAME), when the next SC class is, what they got out of SC, their spiritual SC 'journey' etc. I can't tell you anymore because I fell asleep with the sheer bore of it all. I wanted to escape but it was too late. I had to listen to a woman go on about how she was Prom Queen, head cheerleader, 'head bitch' (really!) and it was her 15 year reunion soon, so obviously, she needed to get into the SC Cult to, quote, 'fit into my prom dress for the 15 year reunion and show those bitches I still got it'.

...What?

I legit couldn't think of anything more cracked out and HILARIOUS than wearing my formal dress to my music-less 10 year high school reunion in our school hall. My friends would (rightfully) have me institutionalised.

Anyway. I tried to escape, but of course it was too late. I had to go on the 'spiritual journey' that is SOUL cycle, because here you cycle. For your SOUL (GET IT????) I had been fitted special SC shoes and been allocated an SC bike.

(Also, I had paid, and Jews do not pay for things they do not use).

Image: GIPHY



I walked into the room, friendless and SC-brand-less.

Image: Paramount Pictures



So obviously, I was going to be leaving alone.

Guys. The room.


It was a cycle DUNGEON run by a some sort of cracked out Fitness DJ named, of course, Parker or Addison or Taylor Yates or something else not-first-name appropriate. He basically ran the class like this:

Image: Second Life



Someone got rejected from running the Amnesia Club in Ibiza.

The class


He was lifting his shirt, PUMPING the EDM (horrid techno for those novices like me) at 9am, with enlightening phrases such as 'Do you want it? Do you want ALL THIS???' lifting his shirt to show off 'all this'.


No.


What was sold as 'half cycle/half dance' (which all female Jews would quite obviously interpret as a light cycle followed by a bop along to Taylor Swift #SHAKEITOFF, am I wrong???) was an hour long cyclic nightmare held inside the most dark, inescapable techno rave in the universe. I couldn't leave because my SC shoes were stuck to the SC bike and I didn't know how to break free. The American women next to me were too busy chanting, taking off their tops and 'woo-ing!' to assist. It was honestly the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced, other that that time I ran out of cheese.

So, does it work?

Image: GIPHY


Answer: I don't know. I will not be returning.

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