Members-only clubs are charging wild prices — and they're booming

Zero Bond isn’t the kind of place you stumble onto: It’s the kind of place you already know about. There’s no sign on its building in downtown Manhattan, and no way to know what’s beyond its heavy black doors unless your name is on the list.

It’s the kind of place where, on a cold December night in 2023, Taylor Swift slipped past security with Blake Lively, Zoë Kravitz and Jack Antonoff, the entire party disappearing into candlelit booths before the outside world even realized they were there.

Newer social clubs like this are thriving in New York City and elsewhere, even as membership fees climb into the six figures and waitlists stretch for months. At the lower price point, Zero Bond's annual fees are $4,400, with a $5,000 initiation fee if you're 45 or older (the price drops significantly if you're younger). At the higher end, Aman New York's initiation fee is a staggering $200,000, plus a $15,000 annual fee — all for access to swanky restaurants, lounges and spas. Even money might not be enough at some clubs: The Core Club is difficult to crack, even with $100,000. Casa Cipriani's strict vetting process excludes the wealthy if they aren’t the right kind of rich.

Expensive private clubs have grown since the pandemic: Donald Trump Jr.'s new club in Washington, D.C. has a $500,000 membership fee, along with a waitlist. Clubs have expanded in Palm Beach, where the rich migrated in recent years; in Houston, they're trying to compete with the New York and Los Angeles club scene. The global social club market is projected to reach $25.8 billion by 2027, with an annual growth rate of 11.2% from 2022 to 2027, according to market research company Mordor Intelligence.

But these members-only circles are more than expensive schmoozing — they're a business model, a status symbol and a growing part of the luxury market. Some offer sanctuary from the public eye; others, a carefully curated network designed to block off access. And a rocky economy doesn't deter traffic.

“When the economy is down, people with wealth are a little bit more not as comfortable walking around into random places,” said Chris, a longtime member at Zero Bond who requested anonymity. “So they prefer to have private environments.”

The demand is clear: At Soho House, once the crown jewel of the modern private club movement, membership has ballooned to 267,494 members worldwide, as reported by the company at the end of 2024.

But exclusivity only works when it feels rare. “If the club maximizes profits, you want to have as many members as possible. But then if it gets too crowded, it loses its exclusivity,” said Joseph Foudy, an economics professor at New York University’s Stern School of Business.

Setha Low, an anthropologist and professor at the City University of New York Graduate Center and longtime researcher of social spaces, warns this mindset indicates a shift in how people define belonging.

“I see it as part of the broader pattern of social fragmentation,” Low said, “and particularly the rise of wanting to be with ‘people like us.'”

Like gated communities, secured high-rises and private security services, the clubs reflect a growing separation between social classes that erodes the idea of a shared public space.

“Class separation and social fragmentation lead to even less of a sense that we are all part of a larger whole,” Low said. “And we can see that reflected in our politics and society today.”

Joining these elite groups isn’t just about money — it’s about who you know, and often how they can help you.

If you ask Chris why he belongs to Zero Bond and two other private clubs, he doesn't talk about the cocktails or the interiors, though they are impeccable. He doesn't mention the low hum of conversation, the smell of polished leather and aged whiskey, the celebrities and business moguls or the way the city outside seems to dissolve when he steps through the door.

Instead, he’ll tell you it’s an investment that has paid dividends — whether at The Core Club, which counts former New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg as a frequent visitor, or at the New York Classic Car Club, which caters to those who prefer networking over the rumble of vintage engines.

For Chris, the clubs eliminate the friction found in high-stakes networking. The people he meets aren’t just acquaintances — they’re future business partners. Deals that would typically require negotiation, fees and structured agreements happen naturally over dinner.

“It’s totally like you get your [return on investment] within a couple months,” he said. "Whatever you spend to join, you’ll make it back.”

The glamour of Zero Bond extends beyond business, but Chris sees a clear divide between those who buy into its celebrity culture and those who don’t.

"When we hang out, someone will ask, ‘You guys want me to bring Jay-Z?’ And they’ll say no,” he added, laughing. “People like to be around celebrities, (but to them) it’s a liability. Too chaotic, too many photos, too much attention.”

For Roger Vincent, private clubs are more about practicality and convenience. Vincent, chief investment officer and founder of Summation Capital and a former investment officer for Cornell University’s endowment, joined Soho House in the early 2000s when it opened near his home in the West Village. "It was a lot of fun," he recalled.

“It was great to have an outdoor swimming pool in Manhattan," he said. "It felt like part of that wave of new, young clubs that were coming in and disrupting the old ones.”

Later, while working in Midtown, he switched to the University Club. When he took a role at Cornell, he joined the Cornell Club to show school spirit. Now he's at the Yale Club — it's next to his commute through Grand Central Station, and his Dartmouth degree allows him to join.

But unlike Chris, Vincent is skeptical about the business value of clubs.

“I don’t think that many people are making exclusive relationships there,” he said. “It’s not some secret place where all the good business is happening. It’s just a meeting place.”

It might make financial sense for members-only spots to sell more memberships. But that would defeat the purpose of those who prefer to make it nearly impossible to join. Zero Bond keeps a waitlist that's believed to be at least 10,000 while allowing only a few hundred new members in per year.

“You could sell twice as many easily by making it a little less exclusive, and you'd make more money, but you would undermine the brand over time,” said Fouday, the economic professor from Stern business school.

Over time, only the most exclusive clubs will survive, he said, fueled by "a sliver of people" who can afford them. "And by that I mean something like a Cipriani or potentially Aman — just an enormous amount of global wealth where people don't bat an eye dropping hundreds of thousands. It's the mid-range ones that suffer."

Dan Kim, a creative director at New York advertising agency McCann, has considered leaving his mid-range club, Dumbo House, an outpost of Soho House in Brooklyn. When he joined, he felt like he had found a well-kept secret.

“There was the whole 'wow' factor, the views,” he said, remembering the place as understated, creative and a little bit off the radar when it opened in 2018.

He soon became a fan of Berenjak, an Italian pop-up restaurant tucked inside the club. “I remember thinking, it was empty, it was kind of nice. No one is here yet,” he said.

Soon, reservations were impossible to get — even for him. "People understand what it is now. It did numbers," he said. “I tried to go back and they turned me away — as a member. Because I didn’t book through their system.”

That shift — from a laid-back, members-first experience to a tightly managed operation catering to the masses — is the reason his relationship with private clubs has changed.

“The crowd is different. It used to be people who just knew this was the place to be. Now, it feels like a scene," he said. “It used to be chill — like you’d find a quiet corner, have a drink, run into someone interesting. Now there’s always a DJ. It’s always loud. It’s not the same.”

Soho House once maintained a strict membership policy that favors creative professionals. In 2010, the club conducted a membership purge, barring finance professionals from renewing and turning it into a corporate networking hub.

The club’s position has changed in recent years. Membership has expanded, and it now accepts a broader range of applicants — as long as they can afford it.

Which raises the question: Has exclusivity become more flexible?

If so, Soho House is reaping the profits. As of the fourth quarter of 2024, membership had grown to 212,447, a 73% increase from the beginning of 2022. Total members across Soho House & Co. reached 271,541, with a record-high waitlist, according to reports on its website.

But ultra-exclusive clubs that haven't changed course aren't hurting.

"People are moving to a model where professional success, social media, profile matter more to membership, like at Zero Bond," Foudy said.

That means even money isn’t always guaranteed to provide access.

"My guess is there are rich people that have not been allowed into Zero Bond," Foudy said.