A fusion of massage and yoga you do while supported on a practitioner’s feet, Tulayoga and massage are popular with celebs. But is it worth a staggering £350 for a two and a half hour session? Our yoga blogger Genny Wilkinson-Priest found out
not a yoga teacher
Louka Leppard prefers not to be called a yoga teacher or a massage therapist even though his work clearly encompasses the two therapies. When pressed with the question as to his occupation, he uses the kind of woolly, feel-good language that bohemians are known for and answers: ‘I’m a creator.’
Normally at this point, my eyes would have rolled up to the top of my head but my bullshit radar sensed a person of substance. And two hours later, I judged Leppard the architect of something new on the yoga scene – a smart, uniquely enjoyable fusion of massage, acro yoga and psycho-corporeal theory.
‘My first education was as a chef and then I went on to art college so the way I entered into bodywork was more from a creative and feeling angle rather than an intellectual one,’ Leppard said.
I judged Leppard the architect of something new on the yoga scene – a smart, uniquely enjoyable fusion of massage, acro yoga and psycho-corporeal theory.
Confused? Let’s start from the beginning.
Leppard, originally from Devon via Barcelona and Berlin, now lives and works full-time in Geneva (‘I moved there for love’) but regularly visits London to see not just his A-list clients like Helena Bonham-Carter and Sienna Miller but anyone who can afford his astonishing rate – £350 for 2-1/2 hours. I have to say, this shocked me. I don’t normally get massages, and on the odd occasion I do, I baulk at paying over £80.
Leppard points out the hefty price tag is for two hours of therapy that unblocks physical and emotional tension: 90 minutes for the oil-based Tulamassage, and 30 minutes of Tulayoga. Moreover, he argues, he has a lot of overhead, which is considerable given not just his travel costs, but the achingly hip space he rents to work from in Shoreditch– a rather large, Bauhaus-style loft that eschews excessive ornamentation in favor of sexy functionality.
Had I felt out of place (I live in a North London terrace after all), Leppard made me feel at home right away. After a brief chat inquiring about any injuries or recent surgery, he directed me to strip bare (I chickened out and left my underwear on) and lie on a thin but cozy white futon laid out on the floor.
For the next hour-and-a-half, Leppard worked on my back mostly, varying the technique of the massage from gentle, rhythmic shaking that induced a deep sense of tranquility to effleurage strokes that while never uncomfortable were certainly deep.
Leppard works without a plan. He let my 43-year-old body with all its history dictate the course of action.
Tulamassage (in Sanskrit ‘tula’ means balance) is powerfully relaxing. The majority of massages I’ve had have been methodically clinical as the therapist works as if reading an anatomy textbook. But Leppard works without a plan. He let my 43-year-old body with all its history dictate the course of action.
‘Although I have patterns and pathways that I use around the body, it’s important to me that I don’t have a preconceived idea of what I am going to do with something so that things are fresh, un-repetitive and in the moment. This means there’s a greater possibility of coming into connection with each individual, as they are, at that time,’ Leppard said.
Tulamassage is indeed intimate. When I flipped over on to my back, Leppard made no attempt to cover my top half. I don’t like to think of myself as particularly puritanical, but I found myself cringing nonetheless.
But it was Tulayoga that really appealed to me. Leppard had me change into leggings and a T-shirt. We stood together – him behind me as he told me to close my eyes, relax, breath slowly and let go.
Wordlessly, methodically, and slowly he moved me through a series 22 positions, some of them closely resembling yoga postures and some of them not.
So I closed my eyes and trance-like, felt myself guided slowly into a backbend, my sacrum balanced with absolute stability on Leppard’s bare feet. He was on his back, beneath me, suspending me mid-air. Wordlessly, methodically, and slowly he moved me through a series 22 positions, some of them closely resembling yoga postures and some of them not. This was a new kind of yoga to me – I didn’t have to do a thing! I was practicing formless, spaceless yoga – in a state of complete, meditative surrender.
Helena Bonham-Carter describes it as an ‘experience like no other that I’ve had. Though entirely passive, I felt I was one half of an exquisite dance’.
Leppard’s feet shifted subtly from my lower back to my shoulders and to my thighs; his hands sometimes held my hands, and sometimes my head. Most of the time I had no idea what was going on; the closest experience I’ve ever had was being in a floatation tank where when your eyes are closed you are unsure what’s up and what’s down.
But this was more personal and humanly warm. The session ended back on earth with Leppard almost embracing me as he gently lowered me into a fetal position, my head resting on his lap.
Now look – this is normally my idea of a nightmare. A stranger enveloping me? The last time I allowed that to happen was in some biker bar in New York City, circa 1998 (but Leppard smelled a lot better than that whisky-soaked bloke.) Maybe I’ve been living in this country too long, and have adopted your awkward, distant British ways but getting a hug from a stranger is just plain weird.
But with Leppard, it was actually OK.
A stranger enveloping me? The last time I allowed that to happen was in some biker bar in New York City, circa 1998
Leppard is quite strong, and I could tell from the tone of his voice that carrying me was zero effort to him. I’m not exactly a lithe thing – indeed Leppard can balance up to 80 kilograms.
You don’t have to regularly practice yoga to do Tulayoga as Leppard adjusts to individual limits of flexibility and the more relaxed you become, the deeper you can sink into postures.
He said some people get quite emotional during Tulayoga as they are not used to being carried (emotionally and physically) by another person. He said he appreciated my trust, which you will most definitely need to have in him as he gracefully moves you into long-held, upside down, gravity-be-damned postures.
I was surprised to learn that Leppard has no formal training – no anatomy course, no massage school, no yoga teacher training. He is largely, though not exclusively, self-taught, led by his fascination with bodies: How they move, how they feel, the story they tell. In Leppard’s case, experience and self-study is definitely worth more than a paper certification. Moreover, I felt safe at all times and there was never a point when he did something that I – as a trained yoga teacher – felt potentially injurious.
Leppard is observant, and will tell clients some hard truths that he reads from their bodies – in my case, that I hold on to anger. That’s a load of crap, I thought at first. I’m a fairly blunt American and speak my mind. But upon deeper reflection, maybe he was on to something. When it comes to meaningful confrontation, I step back.
Leppard will tell clients hard truths that he reads from their bodies – in my case, that I hold on to anger.
All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed my afternoon with the enigmatic Leppard. But I doubt I’ll go back, for the simple reason that I cannot afford it. Why do other people then? I think probably because it is a unique experience that’s tailored to the individual. I felt pretty special in Leppard’s hands, and for some people,
that’s lacking in their lives; being cared for in a way that’s not sexual, and where you don’t have to give something back.
I didn’t feel depleted afterward as is sometimes the case with a massage or vigorous yoga class. I felt ‘centered,’ which is a word I hate to use as a yoga teacher but I did feel really contented. I wasn’t sore, and my regular yoga practice felt really good the next day.
Moreover, I thought a lot about what Leppard said – my storing anger – and told my husband who promptly laughed and pointed out that I went full throttle at him the other day for drinking straight out of the milk bottle. It would seem Mr. Priest disagrees about my inability to hold in anger.
Leppard said he has some (less well-known and less wealthy) clients who save up to see him once or twice a year, such are the long-lasting benefits emotionally (reduction in stress, release of emotional blockages and repressed trauma) and physically (elongation and decompression of the spine, decreased blood pressure, tension release).
But for a regular gal with a mortgage to pay and kids to feed, £350 is a luxury I cannot justify – no matter how good the man’s hands are.
*Genny had this treatment for free for PR purposes.
You can learn more about Leppard’s Tulamassage and Tulayoga here.
More blogs from Genny Wilkinson-Priest
Genny Wilkinson-Priest is a yoga teacher and journalist who lives in London with her husband and four (yes four!) sons. Genny teaches at London studio Triyoga, The Life Centre and Hiitgirl. Read more on her website, gennyyoga.com
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