Imagine a retreat where the ultimate wellness flex isn’t kale smoothies or cryotherapy—it’s your plus-one’s gut microbiome. Yet, what truly haunts me isn’t the fecal transplant (though that’s enough to make my coffee taste wrong). It’s the existential dilemma: Who would I even bring? A triathlete? A Silicon Valley longevity guru? Or Moon Juice’s Amanda Chantal Bacon, whose glow could power a small island? So when Bacon confessed long COVID left her bedridden, my worldview cracked like a poorly mixed collagen powder.
Her salvation? A three-hour IV drip of NAD+, a molecule that sounds like a NASA project but is actually your cells’ overworked intern. Peptides—tiny amino acid chains—are having a main character moment, elbowing their way from serums into IV bags. Even Ozempic, that waist-whittling wizard, is technically one of them. But NAD+ is the A-lister here, worshipped by Hollywood’s biohackers who’ve turned it into a verb. Hailey Bieber once declared mid-drip, “I’m going to NAD for life,” as if it were a Netflix subscription for immortality.
Your body already makes NAD+—it’s the backstage crew keeping your metabolism humming and DNA from unraveling like old sweater threads. But stress and age drain it faster than a influencer’s bank account. MIT’s Leonard Guarente notes levels plummet by 50% by your 60s. Cue the NAD+ industrial complex: Maui resorts pair IVs with ocean views, while NYC clinics offer drips in rooms so zen they could calm a caffeinated squirrel.
The claims? A laundry list fit for a infomercial: energy, fat loss, brain fog banished. Yet peer-reviewed human data is scarcer than a celebrity’s skincare routine. Mice studies show promise—elderly rodents on NAD+ precursors outran their peers—but humans aren’t lab rodents (despite what some detox tea ads imply).
Dr. David Younger warns of kidney risks, while Beverly Hills surgeons tout post-op healing. For makeup artist Ash K Holm, it’s a “life hack” for crafting Camila Cabello’s eyeliner sharp enough to slice fate. But as Modern Age’s Dr. Vinjamoori puts it, this is for “high performers”—the folks who treat their bodies like Formula 1 cars. For the rest of us? Maybe just eat some almonds and call it a day.
