‘Me’ To ‘We’: Rethinking Connection In The Wellness Economy

No amount of online engagement can hide it: we’re facing a crisis of connection. One in four UK adults report they feel lonely always, often, or some of the time (ONS, 2024), and Spotify’s Culture Next report found Gen Z respondents — the first generation to grow up chronically online — are craving real connection more than ever. Even the World Health Organisation has recognised loneliness as a global public health issue, claiming the impacts are as bad as smoking up to 15 cigarettes a day, and even greater than the risks associated with obesity.

And yet, while we’re plugged in, zoned out, and more disconnected than ever, the wellness economy is simultaneously thriving. According to the GWI Wellness Economy Report, the sector accounted for 7.29% of the UK’s GDP in 2022, growing by 19.4% annually. It feels like a jarring contrast. Which begs the question: could the booming wellness economy play a meaningful role in addressing the loneliness epidemic?

Historically, the western wellness industry has centred individual wellbeing, mirroring a wider individualistic culture. In 2025, sleep, nutrition, and exercise are relentlessly tracked, hacked, and optimised. We’ve seen the rise of reformer, the birth of fitfluencers, more wearables than you can fit on your body, and the rapid expansion of luxury wellness travel. In many places around the world, however, wellness is inherently collective. Consider bathing rituals: Middle Eastern hammams, South Korean jjimjilbangs, Mexican temazcals, Russian banyas, and Japanese onsen and sento culture — traditions that support health while also creating third spaces: environments beyond home and work designed for intentional connection.

In the UK, we face a structural shortage of these third spaces — especially those not centred around alcohol. But if loneliness affects health as profoundly as smoking or obesity, then spaces for connection shouldn’t be exclusive, nice-to-have members-only luxuries for those who can afford them. They should be essential infrastructure nationwide.

One location already leaning in? The sauna. The British Sauna Society reports that public saunas doubled between 2023–2024, with numbers projected to exceed 200 this year — signalling a shift towards community-focused wellbeing. Even Vogue recently cited UK sauna culture as ‘the new pub.’

But why is it pegged as the place for connection? Because there’s something fundamentally disarming about sitting in your pants, which acts as a shortcut to connection. We’re stripped of status, with no armour or screens to hide behind. In the heat of the sauna, physical vulnerability can open the door for emotional vulnerability too. Small talk takes a backseat in favour of deeper discussions — you might not recall your new pal’s job title when you leave, but you’ll know how they felt in year three when Annabelle got chosen to play Mary in the nativity.

That said, simply walking into a sauna doesn’t guarantee connection. It’s no instant cure for loneliness. And with the word connection increasingly used as a marketing buzzword by brands, there’s a real danger of it losing meaning. Without intention, you’re just gathering strangers in proximity.

In Charles Vogl’s The Art of Community, he outlines seven principles of belonging — one of which is inviting meaningful participation, not just attendance. People feel connected when they are invited to actively contribute. This principle can be applied across the entire wellness industry: curating intentional, experience-led offerings that prioritise we over me. If the wellness economy truly aims to improve our wellbeing, perhaps it’s time to design with connection at the centre.

We already talk about lifespan, and joyspan has entered the cultural vocabulary — but what if the real health KPI is connection?