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From fitness experts and doctors at your service to in-room compression boots, The Emory’s new City Circadian Reset is setting new standards for health retreats. And, best of all, there’s no need to leave London.
Ashley Baker
At the heart of the City Circadian Reset is Surrenne, The Emory’s pioneering wellbeing and longevity club, where world-class fitness, recovery and spa facilities are combined with expert-led, science-backed care. Central to the programme is the restoration of the circadian rhythm, the body’s natural 24-hour cycle that influences sleep, energy, metabolism and overall wellbeing. Through a personalised two-day experience incorporating specialist consultations, fitness coaching, recovery therapies, tailored treatments and nutrition guidance, guests are supported in realigning these natural rhythms, promoting deeper sleep, sustained energy and a greater sense of balance that extends well beyond their stay in London.
After fleeing a German fasting clinic with tears in my eyes and despair in my heart, I swore I would never again endure a so-called ‘wellness holiday’. As a health buff who knows more about NAD+ infusions than parliamentary politics, my daily life is far too governed by kettlebells and supplements. Don’t my getaways deserve to be gin-soaked and gluttonous?
But then I heard about the two-day City Circadian Reset retreat at The Emory, painstakingly designed by the good people of Surrenne Belgravia, the hotel’s longevity and wellbeing club.
Some people are unable to resist an ice-cold flute of Billecart-Salmon (always available at The Emory). But, for me, there’s nothing quite like the pull of Surrenne. I can barely walk my spaniel in Hyde Park without being drawn in its direction. Until the gods conjure a finer gym and pool, and more cutting-edge selection of wellness tech, such as the billboard-sized red-light panel I spied in a treatment room, it has precisely zero rivals.
The Emory’s City Circadian Reset is far from restrictive. Its indulgences begin by removing every ounce of friction from daily life. As a mother of two, I contend with a fair amount of that. For forty-eight blissful hours, there would be no separating tweens from devices, jockeying for a seat on the tube, or descaling the kettle. Instead, my hours would be filled with a customised menu of health-boosting activities that both body and mind would love. And when I fancied a cup of tea, I could WhatsApp my butler. Where had been all these years?
Within moments of checking in, I was studying my programme from the earth-toned paradise of suite 7003, with a soaking tub the size of the Serpentine and a mattress so plush and supportive that it could put Hästens out of business. I lounged on a sprawling balcony overlooking the treetops of Hyde Park, admiring the magnolias, and letting sunlight flood my retinas and regulate my body clock, which always seems to think it’s nap time.
Simply reposing in this glorious suite for forty-eight hours could have constituted the best holiday of my life. Its accoutrements included a leather-covered cart with every weight and exercise band a fitness fan could desire, along with a cinema-quality television and a new season of The Pitt.
But we could save that for later. Like a visit to my mother’s house, previously my benchmark for a loving, soul-boosting break, this retreat began with nourishment. If anyone can trump Mum’s soups, it’s superstar nutritionist Rose Ferguson, who masterminds the menu at Surrenne. This chic hideaway has become my favourite London restaurant. Every dish is designed to maximise nutrition and absorption, but there’s nothing granola about it. Even protein-packed poached eggs were prepared with spinach, pesto and feta to get my gut microbiome in gear for the day. The dish was addictively delicious: a description I have never before applied to breakfast food.
Armed with a phytonutrient-rich berry smoothie, I popped in to meet Dr Liza, as she’s known. Surrenne’s in-house physician, Liza Osagie-Clouard is an award-winning orthopaedic surgeon who’s done seriously interesting research on stem cells.
I expected our rendezvous to be intimidating, not only because I’m afraid of doctors (which explains my wellness fixation, because I like to avoid them) but because she’s so glowing that Gisele Bündchen would be envious.
After inquiring about the designer of her architectural heels, there were no scrubs in sight, and her blood-pressure cuff was concealed within nice woodwork, dove deep into REM stages and resveratrol. It’s only a matter of time before this woman has her own talk show, and I felt so comfortable that I peppered her with questions I’d been previously too afraid to ask. Will I ever regain the feeling in my big toe from a decades-old gymnastics injury? (No.) Am I still anaemic? (Her painless blood test will determine that in no time.) Do I really need to take so much magnesium? (Let’s look at your levels, darling.)
Dr Liza oversees a battery of assessments and exams, but also eases the mind and puts bad habits in perspective. I’ve never had a doctor react with such empathy to the admission that I once dabbled in Marlboro Lights. I was sad to say goodbye. I wanted to invite her to dinner but imagined she has better things to do, like leaping tall buildings in a single bound.
Next was a fitness assessment with Simon Inman, one of the most jovial and intelligent professionals I’ve met in decades of spinning, resistance training and distance running. Before he spritzed me with water and attached me to electrodes (long story), he measured my visceral fat, assessed my exercise regime in detail and offered thoughtful strategies to optimise my time and energy. (Heard of Nordic walking? Me neither. It's good!)
After all that, it was time for a sublime, hour-long, deep-tissue massage that my Oura ring registered as deep sleep. This was followed by several glasses of alkaline water from Surrenne’s fancy filters, an innovation I never knew I needed but would now like for Christmas.