The first Yoga centre I noticed was perched above a bicycle shop, a fire station and a food co-op in Park Slope, Brooklyn. I was new to New York City then, an unemployed liberal arts graduate with nothing to do but read and wander the infinite, mesmeric sidewalks.

This was the summer of 2000, before Lululemon, before Target sold Gaiam mats and when few people knew who Bikram Choudhury was. There were just two classes to choose from: hatha or vinyasa.