It’s 8am in a steamy wooden box in the middle of bustling south London. I’m looking out of the window at a robin hopping around a community garden while everyone else in this tiny shepherd’s hut shares their theories about the science of dreams. The theory on the table is that we rarely have ‘good’ dreams; we might have nightmares or strange anxiety dreams, but rarely are our dreams happy. One lady says her dreams are purely logistical. Somehow, despite this chat initially happening between two friends, it’s not long before everyone is chipping in with their own dream philosophies.

And dreams are just the tip of the iceberg. Since becoming a regular at the Peckham Community Sauna in south London, I’ve listened to chats about everything from new parenthood and good swimwear to why some people wear suits to work from home and a blistering review of Jessie Cave’s Edinburgh Fringe show.

The Friday morning sauna slot has become my favourite part of the week. After starting the day with a plunge in a freezing cold bath (followed by a breathtakingly hot steam), the rest of the workday feels like a gentle slope towards the weekend. And now that I’ve been going for a couple of months, I’ve started to notice the same people turning up for a sweat. A few weeks ago, a couple of women gave me a swimwear recommendation, and the following Friday, I wore my new green swimsuit and enjoyed a full debrief with them about the cut, colour and brand.  

Costumes aside, it’s amazing how quickly strangers seem comfortable with sharing little vignettes about their lives when trapped in a hot box. And even more surprising has been the impact it’s had on my mental health; I never fail to leave feeling uplifted by these freewheeling conversations that are devoid of the usual societal etiquette. I don’t know how old my fellow sauna enthusiasts are, where they live or what they do for work, but I could tell you quite a lot about their pandemic WFH set-up or their ideal temperatures. Random human connection has become as much of a joy as the physical experience of the sauna itself.

The 9am slot is a touch livelier, but the magic happens an hour earlier. I meet a guy who tells me that this is the one hour of the week that’s scheduled in his family calendar as a respite from their newborn. I’ve overheard friends have really deep, meaningful catch-ups about breakups, postpartum sleep and difficult family dynamics. And while there’s a hushed quiet over the complex – particularly when it’s frosty outside – everyone seems in the mood to open up. Of course, you can’t help but hear what people talk about; it’s a small space with no privacy. And yet, I don’t remember ever hearing such personal conversations in a pub, which makes me wonder if the sauna facilitates a special kind of willingness to share. 

Tina Chummun,  a psychotherapist and Counselling Directory member, says: “Talking to strangers in a sauna creates a unique and surprisingly intimate environment for open, uninhibited conversation. The anonymity of speaking with people we may never see again provides a freeing way to express ourselves without fear of judgment, allowing for a level of vulnerability that is often absent in our day-to-day interactions. The sauna setting itself amplifies this openness. Stripped down to swimwear, we experience an added layer of physical vulnerability, which can naturally make us feel more connected to our bodies and, by extension, to those around us. The way we dress affects not only our confidence but also the energy we bring into a space, shaping our interactions in subtle yet powerful vulnerable ways.” 

In terms of the energy you can expect in the sauna, there is – quite literally – an earthiness to the place. The sauna is built in a community garden and, while clean, it doesn’t feel ‘sanitised’ like so many other experiences are today. It reminds me a little of a festival. One morning, we’re greeted by beautiful sitar music, and as people walk around in colourful felt hats and the lingering morning mist dissipates in the sunshine, I realise that I’ve not seen something as otherworldly since Glastonbury. One morning, a guy finished his sauna session by singing and playing his guitar over an open fire, before going on to produce a clarinet from somewhere for the chorus. It’s a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Peckham High Street. 

At it’s core, this sauna is all about connection. The staff here recognise that community – like nature – is something people need. Ella Church, manager of the Peckham site tells Strong Women: “The community sauna is a sanctuary where you can shed your inhibitions and judgments, allowing yourself the freedom to simply be. It’s an escape from the daily grind and the weight of life’s pressures. When you step into the sauna, it doesn’t matter who you are, where you’ve been or what you’re carrying – you’ll be embraced with open arms and no expectations.”

She goes on to say that sharing in a collective experience is something people crave, and that’s evident in the way that “guests often gather around the fire with a cup of tea, swapping stories and discovering the garden. In our saunas, time has a way of slipping away, and moments quickly turn into hours.”

So, can we count the unexpected joy of talking to people in these beautiful spaces as a health benefit? Chummun says: “From a psychological and neurobiological perspective, engaging with new people can significantly impact your mental health and wellbeing. Conversations with strangers activate your brain’s reward system, releasing dopamine and oxytocin – neurotransmitters linked to pleasure, trust and social bonding. Research suggests that social interactions, even brief ones, reduce stress by lowering cortisol levels and boosting endorphins, enhancing mood and overall mental resilience.”

We also know that studies have found a connection between community and social ties with increased longevity. Published in the Journal Of Epidemiology & Community Health, scientists looked at over 28,000 people in China over the age of 60 and found that regular social interaction lengthened participants’ lifespans by a sizeable amount. Time to death was delayed by 42% in those who socialised occasionally, while those who had the greatest likelihood of survival – reducing time to death by 110% – were those who socialised at least weekly.

It’s no surprise, then, that more and more of these outdoor saunas are opening, and with them come so many more opportunities to connect. See you there on Friday?  

Images: Getty