Exclusive | This ‘80s workout is the antidote to uber-competitive fitness culture —and it’s making a comeback with Gen Z and millennials

Jazzercise: It is your mother’s workout. At least that was the case for Madison Farfan, 25. 

Growing up in the San Diego area, where Jazzercise is headquartered, Farfan’s mom occasionally Jazzercised while Farfan pursued competitive dance. To Farfan’s mind, the two were out of sync. 

So when a coworker — who happened to be a Jazzercise instructor — pushed Farfan to join a class, she scoffed.

“I had that preconceived notion: Jazzercise is not for people my age,” she told The Post. Rather, the stereotype goes, it’s for grannies with unitards and leg warmers, hip replacements and Motown records.

But after enduring a few months of the colleagues’ insistence, Farfan, an HR professional for a construction company in San Marcos, caved. Her first class was led by Skyla Nelson — the impossibly shredded, infectiously peppy, Gen-Z granddaughter of Jazzercise founder Judi Sheppard Missett. 

Wearing a monochrome set and slick bun, Nelson, 22, blasted the likes of Charli XCX and Sabrina Carpenter, leading the mixed-gen class through Jazzercise’s proprietary heart-pumping choreography.

“Double lunge, right left! Right leg, ball change! Double jump, left side!” Nelson hollered between “woos!” and swigs from her Jazzercise-branded Stanley. 

Farfan was “blown away,” she said. “Everything that I had in my mind about what type of workout it was, who takes the workout, who teaches the workout, the music that’s used — totally out the window.” 

Now, about a year and a half later, she said, “I’m addicted. That’s just the simplest way to put it.” 

Aging gracefully 

Sheppard Missett, now 81 and a dancing advertisement for Jazzercise doing the body good, launched the company in 1969 after discovering why her adult dance students weren’t coming back: The women — mostly moms in their 20s like her — weren’t aspiring to be professional dancers like Sheppard Missett; they just wanted to look like one.

“That was kind of my aha moment,” Sheppard Missett said. She turned the ladies away from the mirror and exacting technique — and towards the good music and fun. “And boy, it just went crazy.” 

Since then, Jazzercise has grown into a global phenomenon with over 2,000 locations across 16 countries that tap out fresh routines five times a year. There are classes that aim to build strength, and others that punch back at perimenopause. 

There’s an on-demand platform for streaming at-home workouts, and new sleep programming and nutrition support add-ons. The company frequently revamps its line of apparel and posts its playlists to Spotify.

Jazzercise is even on TikTok. 

“A lot of the time, I’ll have older members or older instructors ask, ‘How is it telling younger people that Jazzercise isn’t leg warmers and leotards anymore?’” Nelson said.

“And my response is, ‘I’ve never once had to explain that Jazzercise is not what it was in the ’80s to someone my age. We just know Jazzercise as our favorite fitness program — period.’”

Not that Gen Z has step-kicked boomers to the curb.

“What’s really amazing is that many of those early customers stayed with the program, even as new generations continued to join in,” said CEO and chief choreographer Shanna Missett Nelson, who’s the founder’s daughter and the instructor’s mom.

While Missett Nelson doesn’t know the age breakdown of Jazzercisers nationwide, she said the ages of the flagship studio’s instructors likely paint a representative picture: Nine, including her daughter, are in their 20s; 10 are in their 30s; 13 are in their 40s; seven are in their 50s; three are in their 60s.

One — her mom — is in her 80s.

“We’ve done a great job in being able to continue doing what we do, but improve it as we went along,” founder Sheppard Missett said. 

No judgment, just fitness 

Michael Stack, an exercise physiologist in Michigan and president of the Physical Activity Alliance, has a few theories as to why Jazzercise’s appeal is age-blind: It’s social in a time when IRL connections — and especially intergenerational ones — are scarce. 

It’s judgment-free in an era where even a side part can earn you a side eye. And it’s noncompetitive in a fitness culture where gym rats battle over the number of REM cycles in their sleep and supplements in their smoothies. 

“Gen Z in particular may be less about those highly competitive metrics, and more about that sense of belonging and enjoyment and joy,” Stack said. “Your metric of success at Jazzercise is: Did you breathe heavy? Did you sweat? And did you dance with your friends?” 

For Farfan, the answer is yes, yes and yes. It’s a welcome change, she’s found, from the high-pressure pipeline she pursued growing up. Maybe her mom was onto something after all. 

“In the competitive dance world, you show up at a dance competition, you’ve got the dance instructors looking at you funky and it’s … not very nurturing,” said Farfan, who attends live classes almost every day after work. “Jazzercise is the complete opposite, so it’s very refreshing.”

Across the country at a recent Jazzercise class in Astoria, a millennial named Elizabeth Laberge shared a similar sentiment. She’d taken ballet for years as a kid but let the interest — and structured exercise as a whole — fade as life and motherhood took center stage. 

Then, about a year ago, Quinn McClure, the 38-year-old Astoria instructor and studio manager, invited her to class. The women’s daughters were best friends, and Laberge obliged “to be a friend” to McClure, too. She’s been a regular ever since.

“What’s the name of that song? I think it’s by Pink,” Laberge asked the handful of other women — ages 35 to 60 — lingering after the Sunday morning class. Some had been to each others’ baby showers, birthday parties and at least one bachelorette. 

Suddenly, unexpected tears welled in Laberge’s eyes. “I took so long of a break from dancing,” she said. “I’ve been through a lot in my life, like a lot of trauma, and so coming here and just dancing, smiling, laughing is really …” 

Her classmate interjected. She remembered the name of the song: “Never gonna not dance again.”