Growing up, I ate every meal at home, and most meals were cooked by our nanny, Georgi, who was also my mom’s nanny when she was growing up. So she was 239+ years old. We loved her. She was the meanest and the nicest person in the world. Only she could be mean and sweet at the same time the way she was. She had a signature “hmmm” sound that could mean she was very mad or very happy. And she made sure you knew exactly which hmmm you were receiving.

We loved picking at the food while she was cooking. Opening her pots and pans and tasting. “Georgi, when is this going to be ready?” She would roll her eyes, “Go get your homework done. Stop hanging out in the kitchen. There’s nothing here for you.” There is a universal law that food tastes the best when tasted while Georgi cooked it. It’s an indisputable fact (one that I won’t allow you to dispute should you try).

When we brought our first computer home around 1994, she thought we were crazy. “What is this? You’re going to be blind if you sit there for more than 10 minutes at a time. Get outside. Play with your sister. How do I turn this thing off?” This stream of consciousness ended in Georgi unplugging the computer from the wall without waiting for us to answer her question.

She loved us dearly, and we loved her. She would tell us stories about growing up in the countryside in Venezuela, and we could listen to her for hours. “I knew one day they would sell vegetables in a can. But I don’t like them. They don’t taste the same.” She would cook everything from scratch and created the perfect seasoning for everything she made.

Fresh squeezed juice was part of every meal at the Perez household. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. The most common flavors: passion fruit, orange, papaya, watermelon, lemonade and a combination of any of these. Tropical country, anyone? I remember spending the summers with my grandparents in Florida and thinking, “Don’t these people drink anything other than orange juice? And why do we get it at the supermarket and not make it at home?”

Between the time I came to the U.S. for college and the cold-pressed juice craze that exists today, 8 years went by where I missed juice a lot (and Georgi, all the time, but especially when I was introduced to the Penn cafeteria, where I would eat most of my freshman fifteen meals.) Now, I can grab a juice, or twenty, with much more sophisticated and exciting ingredients than what I grew up with.

When we bought our first Norwalk Juicer at Bari, I thought of Georgi. This machine would blow her mind. I wondered if she would like it. Chances are she would not. She would probably huff and puff and say something like, “People are too lazy to squeeze spinach these days. What’s wrong with people? And what is this kale you speak of? Looks like a lettuce rip-off to me.”

When juice recipe testing began, I wanted to go back to the basics. To enjoy one juice at a time, taste what a freshly squeezed (or pressed) fruit tasted like. One of my favorite juices that Georgi would make was a watermelon juice with a splash of lime. So I went to the Bari kitchen and tested the perfect ratio until we got it.

Which brings me to the real point of this long-winded (and very Georgi-centric) blog post: Red Radical.

One of our newest juices in the Bari fridge, Red Radical is made with a whole lot of watermelon and a touch of lime. It’s the perfect light, sweet and hydrating summer thirst quencher. It’s made up of two ingredients, exactly as it should be. This means no additives, no extra water and nothing artificial. Just wholesome, good-for-you fruit.

I can’t get enough of it, and I don’t want summer to end so we can keep getting these beautiful summer watermelons to make as many Red Radicals as possible. While they’re here, I’ll be drinking as many as I can squeeze (pun intended) in.

And I’m thinking my body will thank me for it. Both watermelons and limes are very nutrient dense, meaning that the ratio of calories to nutrients is incredible.

Looking for a way to ramp up your REEL or BOUNCE game? Watermelon is packed with lycopene, a carotenoid phytonutrient that does wonders for our cardiovascular health. Lime, the best supporting actress in the Red Radical cast, contains flavanoid phytonutrient compounds, which have been shown to have antioxidant and anti-cancer properties.

So, you say, does this mean that with every sip of juice, I’m also actually fighting off cancer and improving my heart heath? Yes, dear Triber, it does. We chose this amazing duo not just because we’re obsessed with the taste, but because we’re creating an army of superhuman Tribers to take over the world we want every part of you to be in tip-top shape.

This juice is mouthwatering, nourishing… and some might even say radical.

Keep your eyes peeled (and taste buds ready!) for a tasting at your local Bari studio, and let us know what you think!

Growing up, I ate every meal at home, and most meals were cooked by our nanny, Georgi, who was also my mom’s nanny when she was growing up. So she was 239+ years old. We loved her. She was the meanest and the nicest person in the world. Only she could be mean and sweet at the same time the way she was. She had a signature “hmmm” sound that could mean she was very mad or very happy. And she made sure you knew exactly which hmmm you were receiving.

We loved picking at the food while she was cooking. Opening her pots and pans and tasting. “Georgi, when is this going to be ready?” She would roll her eyes, “Go get your homework done. Stop hanging out in the kitchen. There’s nothing here for you.” There is a universal law that food tastes the best when tasted while Georgi cooked it. It’s an indisputable fact (one that I won’t allow you to dispute should you try).

When we brought our first computer home around 1994, she thought we were crazy. “What is this? You’re going to be blind if you sit there for more than 10 minutes at a time. Get outside. Play with your sister. How do I turn this thing off?” This stream of consciousness ended in Georgi unplugging the computer from the wall without waiting for us to answer her question.

She loved us dearly, and we loved her. She would tell us stories about growing up in the countryside in Venezuela, and we could listen to her for hours. “I knew one day they would sell vegetables in a can. But I don’t like them. They don’t taste the same.” She would cook everything from scratch and created the perfect seasoning for everything she made.

Fresh squeezed juice was part of every meal at the Perez household. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. The most common flavors: passion fruit, orange, papaya, watermelon, lemonade and a combination of any of these. Tropical country, anyone? I remember spending the summers with my grandparents in Florida and thinking, “Don’t these people drink anything other than orange juice? And why do we get it at the supermarket and not make it at home?”

Between the time I came to the U.S. for college and the cold-pressed juice craze that exists today, 8 years went by where I missed juice a lot (and Georgi, all the time, but especially when I was introduced to the Penn cafeteria, where I would eat most of my freshman fifteen meals.) Now, I can grab a juice, or twenty, with much more sophisticated and exciting ingredients than what I grew up with.

When we bought our first Norwalk Juicer at Bari, I thought of Georgi. This machine would blow her mind. I wondered if she would like it. Chances are she would not. She would probably huff and puff and say something like, “People are too lazy to squeeze spinach these days. What’s wrong with people? And what is this kale you speak of? Looks like a lettuce rip-off to me.”

When juice recipe testing began, I wanted to go back to the basics. To enjoy one juice at a time, taste what a freshly squeezed (or pressed) fruit tasted like. One of my favorite juices that Georgi would make was a watermelon juice with a splash of lime. So I went to the Bari kitchen and tested the perfect ratio until we got it.

Which brings me to the real point of this long-winded (and very Georgi-centric) blog post: Red Radical.

One of our newest juices in the Bari fridge, Red Radical is made with a whole lot of watermelon and a touch of lime. It’s the perfect light, sweet and hydrating summer thirst quencher. It’s made up of two ingredients, exactly as it should be. This means no additives, no extra water and nothing artificial. Just wholesome, good-for-you fruit.

I can’t get enough of it, and I don’t want summer to end so we can keep getting these beautiful summer watermelons to make as many Red Radicals as possible. While they’re here, I’ll be drinking as many as I can squeeze (pun intended) in.

And I’m thinking my body will thank me for it. Both watermelons and limes are very nutrient dense, meaning that the ratio of calories to nutrients is incredible.

Looking for a way to ramp up your REEL or BOUNCE game? Watermelon is packed with lycopene, a carotenoid phytonutrient that does wonders for our cardiovascular health. Lime, the best supporting actress in the Red Radical cast, contains flavanoid phytonutrient compounds, which have been shown to have antioxidant and anti-cancer properties.

So, you say, does this mean that with every sip of juice, I’m also actually fighting off cancer and improving my heart heath? Yes, dear Triber, it does. We chose this amazing duo not just because we’re obsessed with the taste, but because we’re creating an army of superhuman Tribers to take over the world we want every part of you to be in tip-top shape.

This juice is mouthwatering, nourishing… and some might even say radical.

Keep your eyes peeled (and taste buds ready!) for a tasting at your local Bari studio, and let us know what you think!

Bari is officially two years old. Actually, we were officially two years old three months ago, but I wasn’t ready to share this story with you, dear Tribe, until now.

It’s really hard to believe that we have been in business for over two years. These past two years have flown by. We’ve done so much yet still have so far to go. We’ve changed the lives of so many people, and we’re not planning on slowing down.

When I opened Bari, as some of you remember, it was a one-man show. I did everything — from teaching, to manning the desk, to cleaning, to marketing, to writing, to web design. And obviously, like any human, I was nearing the brink of insanity. I was too busy to notice, but now looking back, I’m surprised no one tied me down, blindfolded me and committed me to a psych ward.

One of my favorite (and least told) stories from those opening weeks:

When I opened Bari I really wanted the space to be perfect. I’m OCD in general and really don’t like anything out of place, but with my first child, this streak went WILD. I wanted the experience to be perfect. So, naturally, I ordered a big Soap.com order of supplies to last us months. Shampoo, conditioner, soap, razors, Q-tips, deodorant, hair ties, lotion, cleaning supplies — all of it, and in hoarder-status quantities. I LOVED getting that order because I love organizing, and I almost needed to take an hour just to find a place for all of this stuff in my newly-built studio. I organized everything in the closets upstairs and downstairs by category, size and, if applicable, color. It looked beautiful, and, more importantly, it felt glorious. I filled our shampoo, conditioner and soap dispensers, set up the lotion, razor, deodorant, candles and hair dryers.

Perfect. Looked beautiful. This was the Bari I’d envisioned — the studio I’d dreamed of working out at — and I knew everyone would love it.

Bari opened, and I embarked on my journey of teaching four or five classes per day. Sometimes less because, let’s be honest, there were certainly times when I would sit there and no one would come. But I was pretty busy and, to this day, I think those were the worst months I’ve ever had in my life. I would leave work after midnight every single night and would have to be back in the studio at 6 or 7 a.m. every single morning. This was my schedule every. single. day. Saturdays and Wednesdays and Mondays and Fridays were all the same. My day would go something like: Teach, spray deodorant, do accounting, do some social media, teach, spray deodorant, research some marketing strategies, implement some marketing, hand out flyers, teach, spray deodorant, work on method development, create playlists… and then spray more deodorant just for the hell of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I was riding an incredibly powerful (and empowering) adrenaline rush. I had just left my amazing corporate job and used a lot of the money I’d earned there to open Bari. Now, my only job was to make it work. The mix of excitement and pressure doesn’t really leave you much time or headspace to think much; you’re just in go mode constantly.

My parents, who were living in Moscow at the time, came to New York for the opening weekend, and then came back for a longer period of time when we’d been open for about one month.

My parents love me too much – they think everything I do is wonderful and perfect, and even though they had seen Bari right when it opened, they hadn’t seen it in action. Or what we thought was “in action” back then. They loved everything about it and were so excited to be there and share in everything I was living. And, for me, it was amazing to have them.

One day my mom said to me, “Alexandra, it’s so interesting that you have vagina deodorant in the changing room. Is that something a lot of people use?” Hmmm. Vagina deodorant. My beautiful, sophisticated mom just uttered the words “vagina deodorant.” One, what is she talking about? Two, what is she talking about? Three, VAGINA DEODORANT? What does that even mean? “Mami, I have no idea what you’re referring to,” I finally responded. “Alexandra, you know you have vagina deodorant in the changing rooms, right?” “No, mother, I do not know I have vagina deodorant. Because I would never buy vagina deodorant. I didn’t even know such a thing existed… until you just taught me that the words vagina and deodorant could stand side by side in the English language.”

She laughed. For days. She might still be laughing right now. Amid my pre-opening Soap.com shopping spree, I had ordered “spray deodorant” thinking that I was ordering SPRAY DEORDORANT. It turns out I had bought something a little different.

I had ordered 20, maybe more. I refuse to waste money (and the only thing worse than ordering vagina deodorant is being the person trying to convince a Soap.com customer service rep to let you return vagina deodorant). So, they lasted for a while. I’m pretty sure we still have some tucked away in the basement for a rainy day.

So, that was the time I quit my finance job, opened a fitness studio… and ordered vagina deodorant on my proverbial “first day.” Please don’t judge. And, if you ever need some vagina deodorant and don’t have the guts to buy it yourself, you know where to find it.

Bari is officially two years old. Actually, we were officially two years old three months ago, but I wasn’t ready to share this story with you, dear Tribe, until now.

It’s really hard to believe that we have been in business for over two years. These past two years have flown by. We’ve done so much yet still have so far to go. We’ve changed the lives of so many people, and we’re not planning on slowing down.

When I opened Bari, as some of you remember, it was a one-man show. I did everything — from teaching, to manning the desk, to cleaning, to marketing, to writing, to web design. And obviously, like any human, I was nearing the brink of insanity. I was too busy to notice, but now looking back, I’m surprised no one tied me down, blindfolded me and committed me to a psych ward.

One of my favorite (and least told) stories from those opening weeks:

When I opened Bari I really wanted the space to be perfect. I’m OCD in general and really don’t like anything out of place, but with my first child, this streak went WILD. I wanted the experience to be perfect. So, naturally, I ordered a big Soap.com order of supplies to last us months. Shampoo, conditioner, soap, razors, Q-tips, deodorant, hair ties, lotion, cleaning supplies — all of it, and in hoarder-status quantities. I LOVED getting that order because I love organizing, and I almost needed to take an hour just to find a place for all of this stuff in my newly-built studio. I organized everything in the closets upstairs and downstairs by category, size and, if applicable, color. It looked beautiful, and, more importantly, it felt glorious. I filled our shampoo, conditioner and soap dispensers, set up the lotion, razor, deodorant, candles and hair dryers.

Perfect. Looked beautiful. This was the Bari I’d envisioned — the studio I’d dreamed of working out at — and I knew everyone would love it.

Bari opened, and I embarked on my journey of teaching four or five classes per day. Sometimes less because, let’s be honest, there were certainly times when I would sit there and no one would come. But I was pretty busy and, to this day, I think those were the worst months I’ve ever had in my life. I would leave work after midnight every single night and would have to be back in the studio at 6 or 7 a.m. every single morning. This was my schedule every. single. day. Saturdays and Wednesdays and Mondays and Fridays were all the same. My day would go something like: Teach, spray deodorant, do accounting, do some social media, teach, spray deodorant, research some marketing strategies, implement some marketing, hand out flyers, teach, spray deodorant, work on method development, create playlists… and then spray more deodorant just for the hell of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I was riding an incredibly powerful (and empowering) adrenaline rush. I had just left my amazing corporate job and used a lot of the money I’d earned there to open Bari. Now, my only job was to make it work. The mix of excitement and pressure doesn’t really leave you much time or headspace to think much; you’re just in go mode constantly.

My parents, who were living in Moscow at the time, came to New York for the opening weekend, and then came back for a longer period of time when we’d been open for about one month.

My parents love me too much – they think everything I do is wonderful and perfect, and even though they had seen Bari right when it opened, they hadn’t seen it in action. Or what we thought was “in action” back then. They loved everything about it and were so excited to be there and share in everything I was living. And, for me, it was amazing to have them.

One day my mom said to me, “Alexandra, it’s so interesting that you have vagina deodorant in the changing room. Is that something a lot of people use?” Hmmm. Vagina deodorant. My beautiful, sophisticated mom just uttered the words “vagina deodorant.” One, what is she talking about? Two, what is she talking about? Three, VAGINA DEODORANT? What does that even mean? “Mami, I have no idea what you’re referring to,” I finally responded. “Alexandra, you know you have vagina deodorant in the changing rooms, right?” “No, mother, I do not know I have vagina deodorant. Because I would never buy vagina deodorant. I didn’t even know such a thing existed… until you just taught me that the words vagina and deodorant could stand side by side in the English language.”

She laughed. For days. She might still be laughing right now. Amid my pre-opening Soap.com shopping spree, I had ordered “spray deodorant” thinking that I was ordering SPRAY DEORDORANT. It turns out I had bought something a little different.

I had ordered 20, maybe more. I refuse to waste money (and the only thing worse than ordering vagina deodorant is being the person trying to convince a Soap.com customer service rep to let you return vagina deodorant). So, they lasted for a while. I’m pretty sure we still have some tucked away in the basement for a rainy day.

So, that was the time I quit my finance job, opened a fitness studio… and ordered vagina deodorant on my proverbial “first day.” Please don’t judge. And, if you ever need some vagina deodorant and don’t have the guts to buy it yourself, you know where to find it.

“You know you’re a Bari Trainer/Triber when…you’re too sore to take off your sports bra and you defeatedly call in the boyfriend for help.” - Kara

“You know you’re a Bari Trainer/Triber when…you’re too sore to take off your sports bra and you defeatedly call in the boyfriend for help.” - Kara

“I just slipped in the snow, but thanks to my expertise with the BariSKIMMERS I was able to glide right into a plank!”

“I just slipped in the snow, but thanks to my expertise with the BariSKIMMERS I was able to glide right into a plank!”