In 2018, in the lively city of Vancouver, performance artist Douglas Bevans undertook a peculiar experiment. His goal was to illuminate the gullibility that underlies much of the wellness movement. His tool for this grand revelation? A product as absurd as it was inventive – hot dog water.

Bevans pitched his tent at the Car Free Day Festival, peddling his unorthodox health elixir – bottles of hot dog water – at an astonishing $38 each. The bottles, each one housing a floating hot dog, were presented as “keto-compatible,” and as potent catalysts for weight loss.

But Bevans didn’t stop there. His wellness repertoire also boasted hot dog water lip balm, breath spray, and even a body fragrance. He promised that his products would augment brain function, induce weight loss, and even restore a youthful appearance. His lip balm, he claimed, was the ultimate remedy for crow’s feet.

“We noticed that some people were rubbing lip balm on their crow’s feet and they were swearing their crow’s feet were disappearing before their eyes,” Bevans remarked. One customer, after applying the balm to his balding scalp, insisted it was promoting hair growth, providing photographic evidence to support his claim.

In the grand scheme of his elaborate performance, Bevans managed to sell an astonishing total of 60 liters of his unconventional Hot Dog Water.

Yet Bevans’ true intentions were not profit-driven. Concealed in the fine print of his product brochure was the revelation – it was all a hoax. This was a satirical performance designed to expose the susceptibility of consumers to baseless health claims and pseudoscience within the wellness industry.

Bevan’s hot dog water gimmick not only grabbed the world’s attention but also sparked a conversation, making us think about the irrationality of the wellness movement, and urging us to question the validity of the wellness industry’s claims before we gulp down another bottle of, say, hot dog water.