How Much Is A Third Space Membership

Okay, let’s cut to the chase. You want the dirt on how much a Third Space membership costs, right? You’ve seen the slick Instagram ads. The moody lighting. The person reading a novel next to a fern while sipping a latte that costs more than your lunch.

It’s time to pry open the wallet. Buckle up, because this isn’t your gym membership. This is a lifestyle investment.

The Big Number

Here’s the headline: a Third Space membership will set you back roughly $200 to $350 per month. Yes, per month. That’s not a typo. For comparison, you could buy a very fancy toaster every single month.

But wait—there’s more. This fee is for a single club. If you want access to all five locations in London, you’re looking at the top tier. That’s closer to $400 a month. Suddenly, your Netflix subscription feels like pocket change.

Why so much? Because you’re not just paying for a place to sweat. You’re paying for a vibe. A carefully curated, fern-filled, marble-heavy vibe.

What’s Actually Included?

Let’s break it down like a protein shake. You get unlimited group classes. From hot yoga to high-intensity interval training, it’s all there. And the instructors? They look like they just stepped out of a fitness magazine. No judgment, but they probably have perfect hair when sweating.

You also get a state-of-the-art gym floor. Racks of dumbbells that aren’t missing a single weight. Treadmills with screens that play Netflix. It’s like a sci-fi movie, but with more spandex.

Then there’s the spa. Steam rooms, saunas, and rainfall showers. It’s the kind of place where you can contemplate your life choices while wrapped in a fluffy towel. The towel is infinite. You never run out of clean towels. That alone is worth a small fortune.

The Hidden Costs (That Are Wild)

Here’s where it gets quirkily dangerous. That monthly fee doesn’t cover everything. Want a personal trainer? That’s an extra $80 to $150 per session. Yes, per hour. You could hire a babysitter, a chef, and a dog walker for that price.

Hungry after your workout? The café is tempting. A smoothie might cost you $12. A salad? Another $15. Before you know it, you’ve spent half your monthly rent on kale and almond milk. The irony? You’re eating healthy to afford a membership that makes you healthier. It’s a dizzying loop.

And don’t forget the initiation fee. Some clubs charge a one-time joining fee of $100 to $300. That feeling when you sign the contract? That’s your bank account whispering, “You made a choice.”

Why People Actually Pay This

Because it’s not just a gym. It’s a status symbol. You’re telling the world, “I have disposable income and I care about my abs.” The membership is a flex. It’s like a fancy handbag you can sweat in.

Plus, the community is real. You’ll see the same faces. The barista knows your name. The guy at the front desk remembers you hate the spin bikes with the broken pedals. It’s like a high-end Cheers—where everybody knows your protein powder preference.

There’s also the exclusivity. Third Space limits membership numbers. You won’t find it crowded at 6 PM. That alone is a luxury. No waiting for a squat rack. No listening to someone grunt during a bicep curl. Bliss.

The Cheeky Alternatives

Can you fake the Third Space experience for less? Kind of. Get a regular gym membership for $30 a month. Then buy a nice houseplant. Place it next to your couch. Suddenly, you have that fern aesthetic. Almost the same, right?

Or, you could treat yourself to a monthly spa day. That’s about $100. Still cheaper than the Third Space fee. But you won’t get the clout. You won’t get the story. You won’t get that feeling of walking into a marble lobby and thinking, “I am a main character in a very expensive movie.”

But here’s the funny part: you could also just go for a walk in the park. It’s free. No steam room, but the squirrels provide endless entertainment. They’re the original high-intensity interval trainers—always running away from you.

The Verdict (Sort Of)

So, how much is a Third Space membership? Expensive. Very expensive. But also very specific. It’s not for everyone. It’s for people who want their workout to come with a side of luxury. If you have the cash and the curiosity, go for it.

Just know that you’ll be paying more for the vibe than the weights. And that’s okay. Life is short. You should be able to towel off in a steam room with perfect lighting. Embrace the absurdity.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go water my fern. It’s the only expensive thing I can afford. And it doesn’t need a membership. Just a little sunlight. And maybe a dream. A dream of marble floors.