TOUCH: WhisperWave ASMR therapy session

As unlikely as it might seem, WhisperWave—so far, New York City’s only ASMR spa—provides exactly the service its name suggests. Rebecca Benvie, the proprietor and sole therapist, offers hour-long sessions that use ASMR, or autonomous sensory meridian response, to trigger waves of tingly, satisfying sensations, through whispers and other soft sounds, scent, and touch, in a massage for the senses, and for the nervous system.

Rebecca opened WhisperWave in January 2024. She had been working long hours and traveling frequently for her tech job, and she found herself craving “platonic caring free of expectation.” But massages, she said, often felt “challenging.” She sought an experience that would provide the feeling of being tended to, but without the intensity. As is true of many ASMR fans, since her childhood Rebecca has loved the “brain-tingly feeling” often associated with ASMR, and started finding videos on YouTube around 2014—the beginnings of what would become a vibrant online community. The internet, however, can convey only the visual and sound aspects of ASMR, such as crinkling plastic, popping Bubble Wrap, a finger run along the tines of a comb. Rebecca wanted to add more senses, and find a way to “fill that need for soft, nurturing touch that most of us don’t experience.” She believes ASMR triggers nostalgic, preverbal responses, bringing her clients back to safe childhood spaces of intimacy: the feeling of being cared for, playfulness and wonder and delight, a certain whimsicality.

The treatment room was simple, lit in sunset hues. Almost fully clothed, with only the skin on my upper back and arms exposed, I lay down under a soft blanket warmed from beneath. Unobtrusive new-age music played. I usually don’t like music during spa sessions, but when I asked if clients ever object, Rebecca told me she’s found that silence can be awkward, almost too intimate. She began with a whispered meditation, and then she touched my scalp—and my body exploded in the telltale “tingle” sensation associated with ASMR: pleasurable, shivers that rippled from my head down through my neck and upper back as she ran her fingers through my hair. She brushed and raked and traced a variety of tools gently over my skin and scalp: a bamboo back scratcher; a wire head massager; a several brushes, including a blush brush and a fan brush; chopstick tools; clawlike metal fingers; and a rubber brush. To my delight, she even simulated the childhood game of “Crack an egg on your head, let the yolk drip down,” knocking her fist against my scalp and raining her fingers down my cheeks. At the same time, since I was mostly covered up, I didn’t feel that my privacy was compromised.

My eyes were closed the entire time, so I never knew what was coming next: touch or scent or smell. At certain points she waved vessels of essential oils under my nose: lavender and lemon and a sort of nutmeggy spice. I heard a rain drum, a crinkly Mylar cat toy, and the bristles of the fan brush being rubbed back and forth. It’s hard to imagine how someone’s whisper could provoke tingles, but Rebecca’s did: she managed to whisper with unusually crisp enunciation and warmth, and her “t”s were satisfyingly sharp. I felt I could listen to her whisper all day. She whispered occasional affirmations along the lines of “I trust that I’m always doing my best” and “I’m perfect as I am now,” and told me she was “plucking the negative thoughts” from my head, accompanied by snaps of her fingers next to my ears. She traced an image on my back and described it in soft murmuring tones: a lake with a full moon and stars in the sky and snowy mountains in the background: this was the one nod to the sense of sight, and intended to transport me far from the city.

Rebecca said she has no formal ASMR training but learned by trial and error and by figuring out what she likes personally. The elements of the therapy session have shifted since she opened WhisperWave: at first, she admitted, there were more sounds and more tools and it was “a bit chaotic.” As she began getting responses from clients like “That was… interesting,” she realized she was trying to pack too much into sixty minutes and simplified it, crafting sessions based on each client’s responses to a questionnaire. She says most people return at least once—even tourists—while others book regular sessions. Many clients are working though personal challenges, emotional blocks, and anxiety. She points out that WhisperWave is a perfect match for the city, as New Yorkers tend to have high stress levels and a lack of downtime, but are also always seeking out new experiences, particularly multisensory, interactive ones in recent years.

Still in a dreamlike daze, I unfolded myself from the warm blanket and stumbled out of the treatment room, taking a seat in the waiting area. As we chatted, a fried-onion smell seemed to waft into the room. “Wait, do you smell fried onions?” Rebecca asked me. We couldn’t pin down the source; directly below the spa were Aritizia and J.Crew shops. I peered into an adjacent treatment room and looked through the window to a view of a back alley with a tangle of fire escapes. It was a signature New York City scent and view, in all its pungency and hard edges, but the tingles of my ASMR session and the caress of Rebecca’s whispers had cast a scrim over it, and I turned and floated out the door onto Fifth Avenue, as if on a wave.

WhisperWave is located at 89 Fifth Avenue, in the Flatiron District. Bookings for the “Signature ASMR therapy session” ($162) can be made directly on the website, https://www.whisperwavenyc.com//