Check out the 5 Factor Meal Delivery Plan in Toronto Life

Date:

Jul 2 2010

by Courtney Shea

Harley Pasternak is desperately seeking a sleeveless T-shirt. The fitness guru has arrived without one at a photo shoot in the Distillery District. The shoot is for a campaign to promote his burgeoning product line on the Shopping Channel. One minion is sent to phone American Apparel and track down this much needed garment. In the meantime, Harley considers other wardrobe options. For casual, man-on-the-street shots, he selects a baby blue polo and jeans—baby blue, he’s advised by an assistant, will highlight his tan. A makeup artist applies foundation and some eyeliner; a photographer assesses lighting options. Bagels and beverages sit untouched while Pasternak noshes on the whole-grain muffin he brought with him. And then he’s on. Pasternak vamps under the bright lights like a bald Gisele Bündchen.

He is in his element, if nonplussed about the music mix of clubland dance tracks and cheesy top 40 ballads. “I’m a bit of a racist when it comes to music,” he announces to no one in particular. (He’s used to people laughing at his jokes.) “Do you have any Kanye, Jay-Z, Alicia Keys or Common?” (And also used to getting what he wants.) The musicians he has requested are also his clients. Pasternak tells me how, just two days ago, he was in Montreal with Common, prepping the rapper turned actor for a movie. Before that, he was in Los Angeles, running Alicia Keys through a series of squats and crunches; and the week before that, he was in Honolulu training Kanye West. He also works with white music stars (Lady Gaga, John Mayer, Bono), tween idols (Robert Pattinson), Oscar winners (Jennifer Hudson, Halle Berry) and newly anointed it girls (Amanda Seyfried’s barely clothed, taut body in Chloe is a testament to Pasternak’s coaching).

The Shopping Channel, like so many other things in Canada, is owned by Rogers. Pasternak recently signed a deal with the communications mega-corp, making it the sole Canadian distributor of his 5-Factor Fitness workout DVDs, Harley-brand barbells, and such snacks as peanut butter bars and potato-soy chips. Rogers has also taken over his Web site, which is where the photographic fruit of today’s labours is eventually headed. For two hours, Pasternak patiently works his way through dozens of 5-Factor exercises in front of the camera. Legs elevated. Click. Abs crunched. Click. Arms extended. Click. Arms curled. Click. With this last movement, the importance of the missing sleeveless T‑shirt becomes absurdly apparent. His fully flexed bicep is obscured by the superfluous fabric. You wouldn’t shoot Gisele in a muumuu, would you?

It would not be an exaggeration to say that Harley Pasternak, at age 35, is the world’s most successful celebrity fitness trainer. That job description is true in two senses: his roster of close to 100 celebrity clients is stacked with as much star power as Oscar night, and as the person responsible for so many famous six-packs and bionic butts, Pasternak has himself become a celebrity. He’s got the lifestyle (a home in West Hollywood, a personal assistant), the perks (invites to dozens of swishy movie premieres and award shows a month, membership at L.A.’s exclusive Soho House) and the frequent flyer points (13 cities last March). He’s even endured a turn or two through the gossip mill: he dated the Canadian Planet of the Apes actress Estella Warren (“That was the last time I’ll ever date an actress”), and has appeared on Canadian gossip queen Lainey Lui’s blog.

Pasternak’s workout regimen—the low-rent version—has also been embraced by the carb-counting, cabbage soup–slurping, gym membership–wielding masses. They buy his books and his DVDs, and now they can sign up for a group class version of his personal training methods at GoodLife health clubs (yet another new licensing arrangement). They’re convinced his program will be the one that works, because, hey, if it works for Lady Gaga… Celebrity obsession, it goes without saying, has snowballed beyond what anyone could have imagined in the pre-Internet, pre-TMZ, pre–social media age. A generation ago, celebrities existed far away on a pedestal. When Bo Derek ran down the beach in cornrows and a yellow swimsuit, she was otherworldly, too good to be true. And then somewhere between the proliferation of Jennifer Aniston’s hairstyle and Victoria Beckham’s size 000 denim, the message changed: everyone can and should strive for that perfect 10. Harley Pasternak became the guy who could get you there.