In a world of $160,000 “human optimization devices,” $10,000-per week wellness retreats and $22 collagen smoothies at upscale LA grocery store Erewhon, longevity has become not just a goal but a wealth-coded aesthetic.
In this aspirational ecosystem, health is not just maintained, but curated and signaled.
Interventions that once required prescriptions are now accessible via subscriptions and disposable income. Full-body MRI scans are booked effortlessly. IV nurses make house calls. Red light panels glow inside private homes. Peptides come with applications and waiting lists.
It’s the Erewhon-ification of healthcare: Medicine is folded into the lifestyle economy, and access and image matter equally as much as the outcomes.
Medicine used to be largely reactive — when something was wrong, you went to a doctor. But the pandemic accelerated a shift towards proactive prevention that has moved beyond the clinic.
“Instead of waiting to feel unwell, people are asking how to protect their energy and long-term health,” longevity expert Dr. Michael Sagner told The Post. He describes this as P4 medicine: preventive, predictive, personalized and participatory care.
But that preventive impulse hasn’t remained inside traditional healthcare. It’s flourished inside a parallel ecosystem powered by venture capital, influencer marketing and advanced technology.
“They cross paths in products and services, but this is a completely different model,” says Dr. Fady Hannah-Shmouni, the medical director of Eli Health.
Prevention is no longer simply medical. It is styled, packaged and sold.
This new mindset has created a consumer movement built around upgrading your body — and within that, a subtle but powerful class distinction has emerged, with some receiving supervised, discreet access to advanced or experimental interventions.
A ‘healthy’ status symbol — for those who can afford it
The global wellness economy reached $6.8 trillion in 2024 and is projected to approach $9.8 trillion by 2029. The biohacking market alone surpassed $45 billion in 2025 and is projected to exceed $134 billion by 2030.
While some of the offerings in these categories are affordable, others come with eye-watering price tags. Infrared saunas can cost as much as designer handbags. Concierge medical memberships run into the tens of thousands annually. At-home IV treatments can ring up for more than a hotel room.
“Health is wealth” isn’t a novelty idea, but its performative visibility is.
On apps like TikTok and Instagram, cold-plunge reels, glucose-monitor screenshots and supplements circulate alongside green juices. Wearables like Fitbit and Strava turn biology into shareable metrics, gamifying performance through leaderboards and further social comparison.
But social media isn’t just a place to share — it’s also influencing health behaviors. In one survey, 75% of respondents said they were inspired to optimize their wellness because of social media, and 82% said biohacking was worth the investment.
“I think anytime something represents aspiration, it becomes a signal,” says Lauren Berlingeri, co-founder of HigherDose, a wellness tech company specializing in red light therapy. “The visible parts might look like a trend, but the real value is internal.”
But the reality is, many of these practices are glamorous, and experts say aspirational adoption moves from the top down.
“Because it’s not accessible for everyone, that’s why people want it,” says Delphine Le Grand, co-founder of members-only peptide company, The Protocole.
The ability to “biohack” your biology reinforces a widening health gap between those who can afford preventative optimization and those relying on overstretched insurance systems.
Data at home
Diagnostic testing was once something you endured — but from deep blood panels to hormone testing and microbiome kits, intimate biological data has become subscription-friendly, arriving in sleek, stylish packaging.
Dr. Hannah-Shmouni describes Eli Health’s cortisol test — available as a subscription for under $300 or a one-off for $99 — as scaling access to a test that can cost “10 to 20 times higher in a clinical setting.”
“People want convenience and personalization,” he says.
Function, founded by Dr. Mark Hyman, offers access to more than 160 lab tests for $365 a year. He says 83% of members joined because they wanted to “take control” of their health.
“To get the deep dive Function provides, you used to need a concierge doctor and thousands of dollars for out-of-pocket labs,” Dr. Hyman says. “We aren’t here to replace your doctor; we are here to empower members to have more informed conversations with their healthcare providers.”
Still, Function has partnered with brands like Equinox and Erewhon — companies that already function as aspirational wellness. Diagnostic testing now sits comfortably alongside premium gym memberships and curated grocery aisles.
The IV goes home
When Dr. Adam Nadelson founded The IV Doc, a physician-led at-home IV therapy company, in 2013 after a bout of food poisoning that required hospital fluids, he wondered why this level of care wasn’t available for patients at home.
Today, the company operates in more than 30 cities internationally, serving both everyday consumers and high-profile clients seeking physician-supervised IV infusions.
“People want convenience and physician oversight,” Nadelson says. “We’re seeing a shift from sick care to proactive health optimization.”
Originally focused on acute care, the company expanded its wellness offerings to include cocktail drips, including glutathione and NAD, as customer demand grew.
And while the cost for an IV can range from $199 to over $1,000, Nadelson counters that their infusion services pale in comparison to a $4,000 ER bill.
Still, IV therapy at home carries a certain cachet, especially for those doing it electively.
The peptide pivot
Not long ago, peptides lived in a regulatory gray zone — a Wild West of Reddit protocols and WhatsApp groups. That world still exists. It’s just no longer the only one.
At The Protocole, a members-only peptide platform backed by Rare Capital and founded by Cindy Yan and Delphine Le Grand, access requires an application, a medical review and a monthly fee, in addition to treatment costs starting around $225 per vial. Since launching in early January, it has already amassed a waiting list of thousands.
It’s not the $10,000-a-year concierge doctor, but it’s not a free-for-all on the internet either. And the intentional gated access is designed for both quality control and a curated user experience.
“Most of these tools are being used currently by the 1%,” said Yan. “We can’t go from one to 100, we have to start with like the 5%, the 10%, and then eventually, as the infrastructure catches up, we can distribute to the remaining like 100%.”
Is it all… worth it?
For now, longevity medicine largely belongs to those with disposable income and flexible time.
But as technology improves and demand rises, costs may fall, and that raises another question: Are we becoming healthier or simply more obsessed with our health? That seems to be up for a debate.
“If there wasn’t demand or money in this industry, we wouldn’t see the rise of these alternative models of care,” says Dr. Hannah-Shmouni, who adds that the space should be approached with a very open mind — “as long as we do no harm and we follow the basics, and we don’t sell snake oil.”
Dr. Sagner has doubts, and warns that overmedicalization can happen when interventions aren’t personalized or grounded in the biology that actually drives longevity.
“Many people equate the number of treatments and high-tech interventions they pursue with being healthier,” he says. “It’s a common misconception.”
The future: the non-negotiables
As the world of wellness continues to evolve, the next phase of longevity may be less about flashy protocols and more about the basics.
The 2026 Global Wellness Trend report forecasts “biohacking burnout” as the market reaches saturation and many optimizers experience performance fatigue. Dr. Sagner suggests that the rapid commercialization of optimization has outpaced education.
“Aggressive marketing claims and social media influencers often attract people eager to optimize their health, but many lack the education to separate fact from fiction,” he says. “The wellness space has its share of bad actors.”
Experts say the pendulum always swings back. Strip away the glow panels and biomarker dashboards, and the foundation remains unchanged.
“The most powerful wellness practices are actually very simple — sleep, sunlight, movement, and connection,” says Berlingeri. “Technology can enhance those foundations, but it doesn’t replace them.”
Le Grand likens this to a pyramid with a universal base. “Once you start to move up, you have supplements, maybe peptides, sauna, cold plunges,” she says. “At the very top, gene therapy, which is truly only accessible for the 0.01%.”
Dr. Hyman is optimistic about the democratization of advanced testing and its ability to catch issues early. “We know that 91% of people would take a brain health test if they could, even if the results were difficult to hear,” he says.
But accessibility exists on a spectrum. The fundamentals are universally available; the enhancements are not.
Marketing often blurs the boundaries because, in the end, optimization sells.
