At first glance, the stately residence at 708 North Rexford Drive in Beverly Hills might not immediately scream “wellness.” With its traditional East Coast silhouette, twin motor courts, and a sharp black-slate roof peeking over manicured hedges, it looks more like a quiet embassy than a space for healing. But once you step inside, the illusion fades and the feeling shifts. This is more than a house—it’s a quiet masterclass in how surroundings influence the mind and body, how space can act as a silent partner in our pursuit of health, longevity, and presence.
The former residents of this nearly 7,000-square-foot estate weren’t just successful—they were people who lived at the relentless pace of industries that demand high performance and ceaseless reinvention. Max Azria, the designer who revolutionized American fashion with BCBG; Ted Sarandos, the Netflix co-CEO who helped reshape global entertainment; Nicole Avant, a diplomat and writer with a deeply human perspective; and Jack Abernethy, an executive navigating the ever-shifting sands of modern media—all called this property home at some point. It's not coincidence. The house, with its subdued elegance and California soul, reflects what so many high achievers in today’s burnout-prone world are quietly prioritizing: wellness, not just wealth.
From the front entrance, a sense of order and restraint speaks to mental clarity. Everything about the structure—symmetrical windows, a quiet palette, classical molding—conveys stillness. That’s not just architectural taste; it’s strategy. Spaces that aren’t visually chaotic help reduce cortisol, the stress hormone that quietly erodes our immunity and focus. You don’t need to live in Beverly Hills to benefit from that principle. Even small changes—paring down a cluttered bedroom, choosing calming tones, opening blinds for morning light—can start to rewire your nervous system.
What’s striking about this house, though, isn’t just its poised facade—it’s the shift that happens once you move deeper inside. Sliding doors vanish, giving way to sunlight and saltwater. The garden opens wide to the sky, and suddenly, the quiet composure turns into barefoot vitality. It’s here, by the pool and under palm shadows, that the home becomes something else: a sanctuary for movement, connection, and vitamin D ☀️.
In today’s high-CPC world of wellness marketing—think “longevity clinics,” “mental health retreats,” “biophilic architecture”—what’s often missing is the human experience that truly drives these trends. Nicole Avant, for example, has spoken in interviews about her deep belief in reflection and gratitude, particularly after personal loss. It’s easy to imagine her walking these grounds in the early morning, sipping coffee under a lemon tree, grounding herself before a day of high-stakes decision-making. That kind of routine doesn’t sell supplements, but it builds a life.
The home’s layout encourages a rhythm that’s more Mediterranean than Manhattan. Rooms aren’t just for show—they’re for rest, ritual, and real human moments. A tucked-away library invites long evenings without screens. A sunroom with tall French doors asks you to let fresh air be part of your daily routine. A wellness-oriented kitchen, just steps from the herb garden, makes it easy to go from plant to plate. In a world dominated by food delivery apps and ultra-processed snacks, the simple joy of plucking rosemary from your backyard is a wellness act with compounding benefits 🌿.
Sleep, that sacred pillar of health we all claim to crave but constantly sabotage, gets its due here too. The upstairs bedrooms are designed for silence—thick-paned windows, minimal electronics, a layout that keeps bustle far away. It’s an example of how architecture, when done right, doesn’t just shelter but actually restores. Studies from the CDC and Harvard’s School of Public Health have long emphasized the link between quality sleep and reduced risk of chronic disease. But beyond the data, there’s something beautiful about wrapping yourself in linen sheets, with moonlight slipping in through dormer windows, knowing the world can wait until morning 🌙.
The garden itself is less of a showcase and more of a retreat. There’s no flash, no perfectly trimmed box hedges yelling “look at me.” Instead, it flows. Olive trees lean in, lavender bushes perfume the afternoon, and the pool sits quietly, always ready for a dip or a moment of floating weightlessness. Hydrotherapy has been trending among the ultra-wealthy, from cold plunges in Malibu to mineral spas in Iceland, but the core idea is simple: water heals. Whether it’s the physical benefits of muscle relaxation or the meditative rhythm of swimming laps, the presence of water nudges the body into parasympathetic calm.
Fitness is embedded into the design, not imposed like a chore. A shaded yoga terrace near the master suite feels like a natural place to stretch before sunrise. The home gym, modest in size, looks out over blooming bougainvillea. There's no toxic grind culture here—just quiet motivation, space to breathe, and freedom to listen to your body. That’s something many modern wellness spaces miss. You don’t have to punish yourself to be healthy. You have to feel safe, supported, and seen.
There’s also something grounding in the fact that this house has passed through the hands of people who know what burnout feels like. People who’ve been on red-eye flights, faced impossible deadlines, and carried industries on their backs. For them, this home was not about escape, but return—to themselves, to family, to breath. In a world where “self-care” has become an Instagram cliché, this place represents something deeper: the wellness of boundaries, the therapy of quiet, the health found in presence rather than performance.
That message is what will resonate with future buyers—not just the luxury, not just the legacy, but the lived-in truth. Wellness isn't a spa day. It’s how your home greets you after a hard meeting. It’s whether your shower has a window to the sky, whether the hallway light feels like sunrise, whether your bedroom is a cocoon or a conference room.
Some might call this house a dream, others a fortress. But at its core, it’s a wellness incubator disguised as real estate. It’s no wonder that people who spent their careers building empires chose to recharge here.
And maybe that’s the lesson for the rest of us. You don’t need millions to build your own sanctuary—you need intention. A morning breeze, a clutter-free desk, a space where the outside can come in. A place that listens. A place that lets you exhale. 💫