There’s a new and very exclusive app for the world’s wealthiest people — and this plebeian Post reporter scored a sneak peek.
Myria has only just launched, but it’s already a must-have for the filthy rich, doubling as a private concierge service and an online social club for the 1%.
Annual membership costs a cool $30,000 — more than the entire amount in my sad and sorry savings account. However, feeling generous, founder Rey Flemings — who’s been hailed as one of the “premier fixers for the global elite” — decided to grant me temporary access to the app in order to see what life is like for the ludicrously loaded.
“Everybody on Myria is incredibly successful and globally significant,” Flemings, 50, told The Post on Friday. “Our average member net worth is about $600 million.”
Myria currently boasts less than 100 members, but they’re a who’s-who of Silicon Valley power players, as I quickly discovered.
Members — who can’t be named for privacy reasons — include the founders and CEOs of household name companies, as well as baby-faced tech tycoons who’ve sold off their startups for mind-boggling 10-figure sums. There are also celebrities, sports stars and royals.
Myria is there to cater to their every whim.
Myria essentially acts as an online little black book, connecting members with vendors so elite they don’t advertise to ordinary people — or even the ordinarily rich.
For instance, if a user wants to travel to Italy, they can be hooked up with an off-market mansion that’s unavailable to the hoi polloi. In case you haven’t heard, Airbnb is only for the poors.
Myria members are also able to score front-row seats at sports games and coveted tables at the most in-demand restaurants. There’s no dealing with the stress of StubHub and OpenTable like regular riff-raff. (Flemings is famously the go-to-guy if you want impossible-to-get-tickets to Beyoncé, the Super Bowl, “Saturday Night Live” and the Oscars, not to mention Met Gala red carpet access.)
On the app, there’s also a “chat” tab allowing users to communicate directly with Myria staff if they’re in a pinch. While browsing with Flemings, I noted one minted member’s message about obtaining a surf instructor and a security guard for a vacation in Costa Rica.
Another intrepid millionaire asked for help securing luxe last-minute lodgings for themselves and an entourage for a spontaneous trip to Machu Picchu. As you do.
Meanwhile, a “community” tab allows uber-elite users to connect and peruse one another’s profiles.
“As a community, they get to invite each other to things,” Flemings — who “grew up poor” in Memphis, Tennessee, and is now based in Beverly Hills, Calif. — explains. “Like, ‘Hey, I’m having a big dinner party on Sept. 6’ or ‘I have extra seats on my plane going from New York to LA on this day, does anybody want to join?’ There’s all sorts of ideas that people are exploring there.”
Flemings once worked in the music biz, where he hobnobbed with big names such as Justin Timberlake. He built up a Rolodex of coveted contacts which he later began sharing with tech founder friends.
Soon, he started serving as a fixer for the filthy rich, helping hook up Fortune 500 CEOs and Forbes-listed billionaires with the hottest names in the arts, food and fashion scenes.
When a wealthy client once asked if they could go to the Oscars, Flemings was able to procure a pair of tickets in the ninth row, right next to Amazon kingpin Jeff Bezos. It took him less than 24 hours to do so.
Now, Flemings has funneled all of his expertise into Myria.
“Even with all the money in the world, access to things is very, very hard,” he told The Post. “Rich people want to be cool, and cool people want to be rich. We’re a platform to make that exchange happen.”
While some members do want to connect with sports stars and sexy models to boost their social standing, Flemings says others are looking for luxury travel recommendations or information about top doctors, surgeons and wellness experts.
More often than not, Myria members are interested in experiences, as opposed to objects.
“Luxury is really a concept for poor people to aspire to,” Flemings told The Post, saying his clients don’t covet cars or watches because their material possessions are so abundant that they’ve become almost meaningless.
“Once you can afford every single thing, the thing becomes deemphasized” he explained. “People start to transition and start to find meaning not in things but in experience.“
So, while an ordinary person (like this lowly journalist) might purchase a print of a painting to hang in their home, a regularly rich person might buy the original artwork.
But the Myria member? They’re sipping wine and taking a private painting class with the actual artist on an island that’s so private and exclusive you’ve never even heard of it.
Flemings usually works with individuals worth at least $30 million — meaning they’re not just the 1%, they’re the top 0.003%.
And while you don’t necessarily need that eye-watering sum to be able to join Myria, there’s still an exhaustive application and approval process.
Aspiring members must take part in a live interview and undergo a bank style KYC (Know Your Customer) check. It also helps if you’re referred by a Myria member.
It all makes other elite apps — like Raya, and brick-and-mortar social clubs, such Soho House — seem like the province of peasants.
Currently, there’s a 500-person waitlist to join the app, and Flemings is hoping to have 1,000 members on Myria by the end of 2024.
“The number of ultra-wealthy people is doubling over the next three years,” the founder declared. “And there’s also this wealth transfer from the boomers to their children — the largest wealth transfer in history. Those two things are combining to explode the number of wealthy people”
Therefore, competition for a coveted spot on Myria is only likely to get more intense.
It’s little wonder I’ve already been booted off.