A specific line from the latest MARINA album caught my attention: “Where are all the parties now?” the pop star queries in her track.
Indeed, where are they? I mused. It has been extensively reported that large in-person social gatherings are declining. Nightclubs and bars are certainly less frequented. And with the widespread decrease in late-night socializing, house parties have also become less common. Overall, we are partying considerably less. According to a report, a survey indicated that only 4.1% of Americans attended or hosted a social event on an average weekend or holiday. Furthermore, another study revealed that just 59% of Americans had attended a birthday party in the past year.
When my friends and I gather in the evening now, our activities typically involve dinner out or one or two drinks at a bar. Perhaps a polite dinner party at someone’s home. Yet, no one is scuffing the dining table with their high heels; no one is stargazing in the garden. It increasingly feels as though those vibrant times of booming speakers in the living room and crowded hallways and bedrooms are a thing of the past.
I am not entirely surprised. Last year, as I entered my 30s, I anticipated a slowdown in late-night entertainment. My stamina isn’t what it once was: I tire more easily, more drained by work. Most of my social circle is now in relationships, meaning partners, friends, and family all factor into our leisure planning. And soon, many of us will begin raising children. I reflect on all of this with a slight pang of regret. Nostalgia lingers, reminding me of the carefree feeling when I’d spill wine in a friend’s kitchen at 2 a.m., sharing gossip with casually dressed strangers. I long for the days when we would pile into someone’s house and mix with acquaintances and friends of friends, never knowing who we might encounter or who some of us might kiss. I miss that boundless sense of not knowing how the night would unfold or how late we would stay up. I become wistful recalling those next-day debriefs, exchanging stories and gossiping over bacon and black coffee.
These days, social interactions are highly structured: we consult our calendars to arrange the next get-together, sometimes two or three weeks in advance. We agree on being home by 10 p.m. to be in bed by 11 at the latest. This rigid structure feels somewhat stifling. It’s too formal, too predictable. Of course, when we do manage to meet and catch up on each other’s lives, it’s wonderful. But we don’t meet to simply let loose and embrace spontaneity. House parties provided precisely that space—once you stepped through the front door into a crowd of chattering, laughing individuals, you forgot all about work deadlines and chores. You were simply there to have fun.
What truly troubles me, what truly makes me gasp and figuratively clutch my Millennial pearls, is the prospect that the younger generation might not experience house parties at all. Gen Z is often considered more reserved, and if TikTok trends are any indication, many 20-somethings are prioritizing early nights and elaborate 10-step beauty routines over going out.
Theirs is a generation raised with social media readily available, and for many Gen Z-ers, it’s largely about appearance. Late nights followed by messy takeaways are not conducive to good skin. Furthermore, in a sea of smartphones, one poorly timed photo or video can lead to public embarrassment. Another factor contributing to the decline in partying is the COVID-19 pandemic and its lasting effects, which are still felt today. Many young people missed out on the freedom of their formative years, finding comfort in self-care and contemplative, solo activities at home like crafting and reading. This was how we collectively managed the fear and anxiety that overshadowed our world, and it hasn’t been easy for any of us to shed that mindset. The mindset that affirms structure is good, chaos is not. That health and wellness must be prioritized to maintain any semblance of safety and sanity.
Then there’s the economic situation. Going out to party at a bar or club is expensive, even if you consume less alcohol. There’s the cost of transport, the cost of new attire if your current wardrobe feels inadequate, the cost of drinks if you do indulge, and the price of late-night pizza. We are navigating a cost-of-living crisis, nervously anticipating the looming prospect of a global recession. Most of us lack disposable income for luxuries. Consequently, our homes have become a last sanctuary from the escalating costs of daily life, and we’ve grown accustomed to staying indoors to avoid financial anxiety. Money should be reserved for essentials, not for frivolous pursuits, we tell ourselves.
It’s all quite rational. It’s all very understandable. And it’s all so disheartening. The term “loneliness crisis” is being discussed with increasing urgency. According to a survey by the global health service company Cigna, 43% of participants sometimes or always felt isolated from others. Only 53% of participants reported having meaningful in-person social interactions daily. And the study found that Gen Z reported feeling the loneliest. It’s crucial to grasp the seriousness of this: the World Health Organization identifies loneliness as a significant global health threat, noting that “people lacking social connection face a higher risk of early death,” and loneliness “can increase risk of cardiovascular disease and stroke.” Staying indoors might not be the surefire path to health and wellness that young people believe it to be.
Our widespread phone addiction has driven us to retreat into the digital realm for a sense of connection and community, but simply “liking” an Instagram comment doesn’t compare to dancing with a friend. Sending a Hinge message isn’t the same as blushing with a charming person across a kitchen counter.
House parties bring us together physically and enable us to be our most boisterous, unfiltered selves. They offer a space dedicated to carefree indulgence and enjoyment for its own sake. They are distinctly unserious in a world that feels oppressively serious. I believe we all need an infusion of joy and vitality right now; to invigorate us, to remind us that we have a beautiful world worth striving for. Now more than ever, we need the comfort of a hand in ours; the sudden flash of a genuine smile; the revitalizing, electric energy of community.
Because here’s the truth about house parties: You don’t have to drink if you don’t wish to, and you don’t need to spend a lot of money. You could even propose that other partygoers deposit their phones into a bag at the beginning of the evening, ensuring you won’t find yourself having gone viral on TikTok by morning. It’s important to venture out and try to feel uninhibited and carefree, even if just for one night. The clearest skin in the world isn’t worth endlessly scrolling through feeds all evening, with loneliness weighing on your heart.