FUNFITFAB STUDIO

FUNFITFAB STUDIO
Express Zenith, society, Sector 77, Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201301, India

FUNFITFAB STUDIO is a 2,400-square-foot loft that sits on the third floor of a brick-and-glass former handbag factory in the artsy end of Bushwick. A mint-green neon “F³” suspended above a roll-up industrial door marks the entrance—no marquee, no doorman, just the quiet thud of sub-bass filtering down onto Troutman Street on Thursday nights. Inside, one enormous room is split into two functional zones rather than four rigid walls: a sprung-birch movement floor, pristine for dance-fitness classes, and a 14-foot-wide raised platform that serves as both DJ pulpit and live-sound stage.

At 7:30 a.m. the studio smells of eucalyptus towels; at 11 p.m. it becomes a neon aquarium of low-lit cardio and groove, the same floorboards now pulsing with Ableton-guided kick drums. The sound system is the owners’ pride—adapted from boutique-club Meyer components, recalibrated for human movement rather than passive listening. A stack of 12-inch subwoofers is hidden under the steps, delivering 27 Hz without tickling bare kneecaps; overhead, six coaxial tops disperse crystal-clear mid-highs to every corner so lyrics remain legible even when forty people are throwing kettlebells in rhythm.

Lighting follows mood like an interior designer’s heartbeat. Long stretches of LED tubes, programmed by a local synth wizard, can wash the space in sunrise-rose for recovery yoga or flash ultraviolet ribbons synced to a 128 bpm Afro-house set. Above the DJ booth, a vintage Japanese spring reverb tank—rescued from a shuttered reggae studio in Osaka—lets visiting producers slap snares into cavernous dub space on Wednesday open-mic nights.

At its soul, FUNFITFAB refuses to choose between sweat and sound. Monday’s “BassCamp” is a 45-minute HIIT session whose intervals are cued by specific drum patterns—think burpees on every clap of a Jersey-club remix. Saturday’s “Stretch & Resample” starts with 30 minutes of yin poses while a sound engineer deconstructs the same track in real time, showing how the tempo drops from 95 bpm to 65 bpm as the class melts deeper into heart-openers. By midnight the same floor hosts strictly-vinyl night “Cardio After Dark,” where entry is free if you arrive wearing workout clothes and purchase at least one electrolyte mocktail from the chrome-clad juice rail.

The changing rooms maintain the industrial chic: polished cement, cedar benches, showers the size of small confessionals stocked with lemongrass soap and miniature blow-dryers repurposed from salons in Tokyo. Lockers use RFID bracelets instead of keys, letting dancers jump straight from burpee track to bassline without fumbling for quarters. A small retail alcove carries limited-run recycled spandex leggings and 7-inch singles pressed by neighborhood producers who have taken the FUNFITFAB name—an echoing conga hit, a chopped vocal counting reps—onto vinyl that graces booths from Panorama Bar to Nowadays.

More community hub than chain gym, the studio caps membership at four hundred, insisting every newcomer attend a Saturday “open doors” jam. There, owner Samine—who deejays under the alias SAMIFY—starts with breath work, segues into a half-hour DJ set spun entirely from field recordings of trampolines and kettlebell clangs, then invites everyone to remix the room’s track list on a communal Maschine. The resulting stems are uploaded overnight; by morning the dropbox file is surprise pre-class warmup music for whoever booked the 6 a.m. slot.

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