Are You Soho House Material?

Milana Lewis-Zakuto wanted in. As of early February, the 31-year-old Nike manager had applied for a Soho House membership but had not heard back.

“I know a lot of people who are on the committee and a bunch of people in the city, so I’m hoping that I’m able to get in,” she said.

Lewis-Zakuto had been to Soho Houses in London, Paris, Copenhagen and Amsterdam for work, and she was dying to return, but this time as a member.

Working as a product-line manager for Nike Air Max shoes is Lewis-Zakuto’s day job, but her side hustle is an accessories line she founded and named Vainglory. When we met, she wore a cropped knit top and gold hoop earrings that said “Vain.”

The way Lewis-Zakuto tells it, she’s been working her way up the ladder from Philadelphia sneaker retail to Pacific Northwest tastemaker, and nothing would accelerate the networking like membership at Soho House, an exclusive new social club that takes up half a city block in the Central Eastside.

A place where money flirts with fashion at the poolside bar, Soho House has been called a “country club for creatives” and even “the Multnomah Athletic Club for hipsters.”

English restaurateur Nick Jones began Soho House in 1995 in London and shipped it to New York in 2003. It has since expanded to its current portfolio of 42 clubs around the world. When Soho House Portland fully opened to members March 18, it became the brand’s first Pacific Northwest location—nearby big cities Seattle, Vancouver, B.C., and San Francisco don’t even have one yet.

A real Soho House—in Portland? The same Soho House where Rihanna, Taylor Swift and Leonardo DiCaprio go, where the whole cast of Sex and the City hit the New York club’s pool in an early-aughts episode, where Prince Harry famously took Meghan Markle on their first date?

It sounds like a strange fit for Portland, a town where people have their dress flannels and their formal fleeces, where the graffiti is so prevalent that the city’s Bureau of Transportation ran out of money to clean it up, where the national media gleefully chronicles our fall from grace.

Against these odds, Soho House has cast its beatific gaze upon us. Soho House is offering a select few hundred the opportunity to step out of the rain, the gray and the grit and into its world of luxury, like Willy Wonka handing out golden tickets at a Lululemon. Portland can have nice things, too.

Located in the renovated historic Troy Laundry Building at 1025 SE Pine St., the club includes a rooftop pool, a 4,400-square-foot gym, a restaurant, a lounge, and a music room for events and performances. The 1914 Buckman warehouse served as a commercial laundry and then an art studio cooperative, from 1978 to 2016.

But do Portland’s social strivers need or want a luxe new social club? Apparently, because in certain Rose City social circles—such as mine, among soccer parents in Eastmoreland—the desire to gain entrée has registered somewhere between “interested” and “frothing at the mouth” for the past year. Artists hoped to rub elbows with people who might actually be able to afford their art. Moneyed socialites texted friends who were already members, asking them to vouch for them.

It’s an exercise in status, in cool, in youth, in money. Admission means you’ve got it. Rejection? Well. Does 24 Hour Fitness count as a wellness social club?

I get it. I grew up going to the Multnomah Athletic Club—swimming and gymnastics lessons, Mother’s Day brunch, father-daughter dances—but dropped my membership once I became an adult. It felt too expensive and pretentious. Admission to Soho House is Portland’s new flying-M parking sticker, MAC’s windshield decal that gets members into the exclusive Goose Hollow club’s parking garage while also handily signaling to everyone in the neighborhood that you made it to the top. But the only “sticker” needed for Soho House social cachet is the location tag on an Instagram post.

But who are Soho House’s chosen ones?

On the night of Feb. 2, they wore roller skates.

The event was Soho Skates, a hype party for current and prospective members of Soho House at the Oaks Park Roller Skating Rink. Attire: ‘70s chic halter tops, sparkles, leather fringes, Gucci tracksuits, and at least one platinum-blond Afro wig. Swag: Soho Skates-branded retro tube socks and a coin purse.

Milana Lewis-Zakuto was there, in her Vainglory hoop earrings, greeting acquaintances as they haltingly skated past her in the cafe area to get another prosecco. The roller rink smelled of disinfectant spray from the skate shop, carpet and pizza, awakening long-dormant memories of grade-school birthday parties.

With her Nike credentials and accessories business, Lewis-Zakuto is exactly the type of person Soho House says it’s looking for in Portland.

“The creative community here is bold, outspoken, and willing to take risks,” says Kayla Hoppins, Soho House Portland’s head of membership and communication. “As a city, we are optimists who continue to create, innovate and inspire. And that’s what Soho House is all about.”

Soho House doesn’t outright reject prospective members—they just get “left on read,” so to speak.

“It’s not that anyone is ever going to be told no,” says Hoppins, who declined roller skates in favor of zebra-print pumps at the event. “There are applications that don’t make it through during a given time when we are accepting members. Also, if a potential applicant wanted to amend their application—maybe they got a different job or something—that’s an option for them as well.”

Translation: Get a cooler job and try again.

Hoppins mentioned Nike, Adidas, Wieden + Kennedy, smaller creative agencies, artists, chefs and winemakers all as potential Soho House material.

Soho House has actually been developing its membership in Portland for about five years in preparation for the opening of the brick-and-mortar. Portland was one of the club’s more than 80 “Cities Without Houses,” where people pay to be members, attend events, and access other Soho Houses when they travel. A real estate development company called AJ Capital Partners purchased the Troy Laundry Building in 2019 for $15.65 million and leased it to Soho House—the beforetimes. Seattle is still a City Without a House.

Membership costs $1,950 a year, or $4,500 a year for access to all Soho House locations globally. Founder members and those under 27 pay a reduced rate. That’s almost the same as a MAC membership, by the way, save the MAC’s hefty initiation fee. Last week, The Oregonian reported that Soho House Portland has 501 members and a waitlist of 1,200. The company scoffed at those numbers as being outdated but would not reveal new ones.

At any moment, about half the people in the house are members and half are guests; members are allowed to sign in three guests at a time. Soho House keeps its membership rolls private but touted the following Portlanders as being in: Lena Vasilenko Tsymbal (designer), Jess Ackerman (artist), Chloe Mason (model, author and entrepreneur), Jewan Manuel (vegan chef), and Evan Luecke (digital creator).

Don’t recognize those names? Well, you wouldn’t.

DJ BadBTeenie is already in. The 23-year-old, née Natine Williams, is an original member, called a “founder,” of Soho House Portland. Her membership fee is currently waived while she serves on the committee that helps curate events.

Williams is managed by Lewis-Zakuto and deejayed a Vainglory anniversary party at Pearl District cocktail bar Pink Rabbit in December. Some of the biggest gigs that Williams has played in her two years behind the decks have been at Nike’s SNKR Ball and on the rooftop of Soho House’s West Hollywood location. (“It’s glass all around so the views are immaculate. It’s just a vibe,” she says.)

She is hooked on the cream cleanser and renewal serum from the Soho Skin line that she’s been receiving in gift bags for her committee participation. She loved staying at Soho Warehouse in downtown Los Angeles. (Portland’s location will not have overnight accommodations.) She was impressed by rooms fully stocked with razors, toothbrushes, condoms, tampons and, of course, Soho Skin products. A cocktail trolley made the rounds to each room around 6 or 7 pm.

“The hospitality is more, like, ‘You’re a person and we care about you,’” she says. “‘We’re family. You’re creative. We want to cater to you but not, like, too much.’”

Plus, the connections. In Los Angeles, Williams chatted up a guy at the pool “and he’s, like, one of my best friends now.”

Back at Oaks Park, Rick’s Cafe was getting crowded and noisy with all the alcohol and laughing and people networking. Interactions with new friends ended with an exchange of hugs and Instagram handles.

Better think fast, though. I hesitated for a split second when giving Williams my Instagram handle. She gasped at the unimaginable. “You don’t know your Instagram name?”

I remembered it. But I warned her that my account is mostly pictures of my kids. Back at home, I scrolled through photos of Williams with her immaculate, unlined skin in a vintage chartreuse convertible on her 23rd birthday (“my Jordan year!”), partying at SNKR Ball and deejaying at a Las Vegas pool. I felt very old.

On a hard-hat tour before it opened, Jakob Hesketh, Soho House’s head of communications for North and South America, urged me to use a bit of imagination in the luxe social club-to-be. Hesketh stepped past Home Depot buckets, industrial fans and boxes of hardware in the active construction site.

It wasn’t difficult to see the grandeur.

First, we checked out the 4,400-square-foot, light-drenched gym with exposed brick walls and chandeliers like little upside-down umbrellas. Need some pep? The gym reception area will offer grab-and-go smoothies and overnight oats, perhaps a cup of Upper Left Roasters’ special “Soho Blend.” Afterward, enjoy the steam room and sauna, the latter of which has a beautiful sunburst design carved into the ceiling, and a locker room with sage green Pratt + Larson tile.

Even unfinished, the facilities were undeniably gorgeous, like the most stylish interior designer’s Instagram feed come to life. The sprawling lounge would be anchored by a burl and walnut bar and feature lush velvet midcentury modern couches, bold art on the walls, and “lovingly restored” vintage lampshades.

Hesketh is based in New York but his accent is an Australian/U.K. mashup. Tall and with noticeably perfect teeth, he wore a neon construction vest; the Velcro kept snagging on his cashmere sweater.

“There are misconceptions about Soho House,” says Hesketh’s boss, Andrew Carnie, the CEO. “It’s not pretentious and stuffy by any means.”

In New York, for example, there is a range of clubs, from elite down to community membership clubs. Soho House is roughly in the middle. (Portland translation: Arlington Club and MAC down to Elks clubs and YMCAs.)

Soho House has 193,865 members globally and another 99,000 on its waitlist, the company said. With new houses in São Paulo, Mexico City and Portland, the membership base will grow to 210,000 members by year’s end, according to a November earnings call. However, the club stopped accepting new members this year in New York, Los Angeles and London due to overcrowding, according to news reports.

But in early February, Wall Street research company Glass House released a report predicting that Soho House shares could eventually become worthless. The report called Soho House, which went public in 2021, “eerily similar to WeWork’s public offering,” referring to the coworking space that filed for bankruptcy in November.

New York tabloids pounced; The Post ran a piece headlined “Soho House Is Over” and called it “basic,” “uncool” and only for finance bros who don’t know any better.

Soho House, like its spiritual cousin across the river, the Ritz-Carlton, both have opened at a complicated time for Portland. The Troy Laundry Building is within easy walking distance of Revolution Hall and Gregory Gourdet’s restaurant kann, but it’s also roughly equidistant between two homeless shelters in a neighborhood where tents dot the sidewalks.

Soho House, of course, betrayed none of this dissonance in its grand-opening press release, which called the Central Eastside “an area of Portland known for its bustling restaurants, dive bars, coffee shops, and a friendly neighborhood feel.”

The tour with Hesketh continued up curvy staircases and through door frames with custom millwork to the rooftop pool with 360-degree views of the city. When it opens this summer, members can laze on one of the daybed lounges, surrounded by Mediterranean tile and terra cotta planters. The pool—Soho House’s longest rooftop pool in North America, in response to founder member feedback that Portlanders will want to swim laps—will be heated and open year-round; if Soho House Chicago can swim in the winter, so can Portland.

Foodies will enjoy dining in the club restaurant helmed by chef Matt Sigler (formerly of Renata) for Italian-inspired American fare, such as wood-fired pizzas with in-season produce from local farms like Flying Coyote.

Maybe it was the daybed lounges, or the sunburst carved in the sauna, or the Pelotons and the gym with the mirrored studio for visiting yoga instructors. But about 40 minutes into the tour, I cracked. I could picture myself here. No, I needed to join Soho House. We had been talking about how personal recommendations go a long way toward getting a membership application through.

I pitched myself as an arts journalist—an obviously creative profession—and then name dropped not one but two people.

“I feel like I have a good shot at getting in?” I asked, before a weird throaty laugh I hope I have never done before or since.

Hesketh encouraged me to put an application in, before mercifully changing the subject to Soho House Portland’s art collection, which includes commissions of rose-themed paintings.

I did not put my application in.

Not everyone is sold. Melissa Benavidez is a freelance journalist for magazines such as Vanity Fair and Travel + Leisure who splits her time between Portland and New York City (and publishes under a different surname). She originally joined the club in New York in 2018, but isn’t sure if Soho House Portland makes sense.

“I think it’s going to be a weird fit,” Benavidez says. “I don’t see these people in Portland normally. I am like, ‘Where did you come from? What did you fly in on?’”

Her friend Angela Scott, standing next to her near the rink at Soho Skates, made an audible “ew!” when Benavidez talked about her MAC membership. Scott had not applied to Soho House nor would she ever pay for a social club. She recently took up golf and declined to join a country club.

“I’m, like, ‘All of you paid a lot of money to just be around other rich people,’ and that’s real fucked up,” Scott said. “To be like, ‘I’m tired of the public.’”

One Portland artist asked to be quoted anonymously because she “would like to be able to get a job again.” Her peers are joining Soho House to be able to network with wealthy people who might collect their art. It’s ridiculous and it’s exclusionary, she said.

“I think using the word ‘community’ to describe it is a bit of a misuse of the word,” the artist said. “Portland has community. So, like, making there be a several-thousand-dollar barrier to access community? It does rub me the wrong way.”

Despite the clubwide policy prohibiting photos (except in the marked “photo booth”), members are posting plenty of content on social media of themselves enjoying Portland’s new Soho House dinners and barre classes. Other offerings this month include yoga, meditation, a trivia night, watercolor workshops, and a “house blessing and Pisces star talk” with an astrologer.

After two weeks of talking to its pledges, my feelings toward the club continued to feel nearly equal in their attraction and repulsion, like two magnets being flipped around.

I am glad that companies like the Ritz and Soho House are spending money on our city—we need to move forward—but does this direction feel authentically Portland? As someone at WW responded when told about the concept of Soho House: “This sounds like some California bullshit.” Well, London and New York bullshit, but yes.

A wave of acceptances went out days before the opening, ending the suspense for many, including Milana Lewis-Zakuto.

She got in as a founder member on March 5 and sent in her fees right away. Soho House then invited her to book a “group induction session” in which she’ll meet fellow new members and tour her “new home,” as the intro email put it. Lewis-Zakuto was ready.

“Girl, I’m trying to get in there and then I can go to the gym, and then when the pool opens, I’ll be at the pool,” she says. “I need this.”