How the wheels came off SoulCycle
SoulCycle didn’t invent spin — the intense stationary cycling class first became popular in the mid-Nineties. But, around 10 years ago, it did elevate it to cult status, turning a workout into a candlelit, intensely emotional, quasi-spiritual experience, during which riders frequently sob in the saddle. Pre-pandemic, at the brand’s 97 clubs across north America and its two international outposts in London’s Soho and Notting Hill, devotees would drop £24 per class (there’s no membership) for 45 minutes of highly competitive cardio alongside celebrity attendees including David Beckham (a regular at the Soho studio), Jake Gyllenhaal, Katie Holmes and Nicole Kidman.
In the darkened studios, however, it is the star instructors who take on celebrity status. In 2018, SoulCycle even launched its own talent-management agency to represent their most highly prized teachers. But that star-making company culture has come back to bite the brand on its perfectly saddle-toned bum. SoulCycle, which built its identity upon ideas of inclusivity and empowerment, now stands accused of turning a blind eye to racism, homophobia, bullying and fat-shaming among its staff, and of fostering a toxic workplace culture among its star instructors — instructors who not only escaped reprimand, but, former employees claim, were showered with perks including, in one case, a Mercedes-Benz.
As the allegations have rolled out, even the most loyal riders have been turned off. A long-time SoulCycle fan in LA, with over a thousand rides under her belt, admits to being “horrified and disgusted” by the alleged claims. “Do I cringe when I give them my money? Yes,” she says, adding that instructors are “treated like gods [and] celebrities by the company and nobody has been reining them in”.
SoulCycle reject the allegations.
It’s not the first time the fitness firm has run into trouble. In August 2019, one of the company’s owners, billionaire businessman Stephen Ross, who also owns SoulCycle’s sister gym company Equinox, hosted a fundraising lunch to support Donald Trump. For $250,000 (£186,000) a ticket guests could purchase an audience with the President at Ross’s Hamptons estate. There were calls for a boycott of both brands, and, for a spell, SoulCycle’s sign-up rates did drop by around 12 per cent.
Nothing, however, has shaken the company’s image as dramatically as the most recent raft of scandals. In November, Business Insider published an excoriating investigation into the company, speaking to more than 30 corporate staff, former employees, instructors and riders past and present. Jennifer Brody, a former studio manager in Palo Alto, California, was first to go on the record, accusing a US “master instructor” of making racist comments, calling her “Aunt Jemima”, a reference to an American pancake brand itself in the process of changing its anachronistic, racist logo and name. Brody never reported the comment, asserting that “there wasn’t anyone who would have cared”.
In the wake of Brody’s assertion, others came forward, including Ashley Mitchell, a former instructor at SoulCycle in Boston who believes she was discriminated against, along with her two black colleagues. “Not only were there microaggressions but there was never any effort put into our development,” she said. She claims that she was once chastised for shouting “let’s f**king go”, at a climactic moment of a ride. “I would take white instructors’ classes and their music was explicit and they wouldn’t get in trouble,” she said.
Afsaneh Parvizi-Wayne, the London-based founder of organic period company Freda and a long-time SoulCycle fan, says she won’t be booking any more classes. “The hypocrisy of exploiting a demographic that you actually have disdain for is fundamentally unacceptable,” she says.
But the most toxic aspect, according to many reports, is the pre-eminence of SoulCycle’s “master instructors”, the company stars who can earn up to $1,500 (£1,116) a class. In London, according to an ex-staff member, one instructor would ask the front-desk staff for riders’ details — breaking privacy rules — so he could message them on Instagram. Lauren (who didn’t want her surname revealed) worked on the front desk of a Manhattan studio where a regular instructor “would smack our asses and say, ‘Hey, sexy, come over here’,” she reports.
She told a manager, who replied: “It’s fine, he brings in a lot of money. He doesn’t mean it.” He reportedly also made a point of touching female riders’ waists and hips when adjusting their form. “Walking into [some classes felt] like walking into a sex dungeon,” reported one New York rider.
Other instructors, meanwhile, stand accused of fat-shaming both staff and customers. A New York master instructor reportedly told management to remove front-desk workers who were not in good enough shape. Last summer, a pregnant rider complained to SoulCycle after she was moved off a front row into a back corner “and a more attractive person was moved in front”.
Gemma Craven, a digital marketing executive and former SoulCycle rider in New York, attests to an aggressive atmosphere in some studios. “Riders had to accept that being screamed at in classes at was just part of the experience”. Craven bought a Peloton as soon as it launched.
Far from reprimanding its stars, it is claimed that SoulCycle rewarded them; the company reportedly paid for an instructor’s Soho House membership and, when she taught in the Hamptons one summer, for a Mercedez-Benz for her. “The fault lies with SoulCycle for making these instructors into celebrities,” says Parvizi-Wayne.
SoulCycle say: “At SoulCycle, our priority has always been to build a community centered on our core values of diversity, inclusion, acceptance and love. When we receive complaints or allegations related to behavior within our community that does not align to our values, we take those very seriously and both investigate and address them. We are committed to continuing to make improvements and ensuring that we live up to the values that our teams and riders expect of us.”
Yet many of these instructors continue to teach, featuring prominently on the class schedules. Craven says: “SoulCycle crafted a finely tuned public image but was too arrogant to bother to ensure that the company actually lived up to its ‘values’ because too many people were more than happy to pay almost $40 per class for years.” “That sense of community and all the mantras, it’s all bullshit,” agrees a former instructor. “It was just contrived. Behind the scenes, it’s toxic. It’s cutthroat.”
