It was May 2010 and I was officially legal to drink £5 jugs of vodka & lemonade in rooms with over-stimulating laserbeams, sweaty humans and loud music. I had waited a very long time for this moment and Kingston Oceana was where my provisional license would be accepted by a burly security guard scrutinising my most adult attire (a tube skirt, lace vest and a 6 inch pair of platform sandals). I had left college and was finally able to celebrate with my girls a glorious moment of freedom from FMP's and boring lectures, it was my time to become an adult!
Hip-hop rave, House rave, Old School Garage rave - you name it and I was there. Rushing back from an 8 hour shift 2 hours away on just 4 hours sleep to go and do it all again. It was like a cult, with almost all of your friends doing the exact same thing. From Croydon to Dalston and everywhere else in between, to later shivering by a smelly bus stand with a bladder full of disaronno & cranberry juice and a mouth full of kebab. It was a time of character development and unnecessary dramas, on a small budget of £15 to last the night. A time that I will always cherish.
Folks my age now say "We were the last generation" and "back in my day, we used to get home at 5 in the morning and be up for work by 7!" A time that we would take for granted, never thinking your favourite local nightclubs would transform into a Five Guys or Polski Sklep. "Where will we go now?" I thought, as my memories of breakups and makeups die with the rats and booze-soaked carpets to make way for a gentrified Caribbean restaurant.
Now in my 30's, I anxiously sit in my car twirling around my fidget ring wondering if I should still be doing this. Arguing with myself whether I should risk the pain of wearing a 4-inch heeled boots, or just go in my usual comfies, a pair of mashed down converses that are holding onto with dear life. Even though the back of the shoes are screaming "enough is enough" and my heels are saying "I can feel the breeze!", I throw my boots to the back and squeeze my puffy feet into the comfier choice. As i gather myself together a loud, boozy group of bare-legged girls stumble past in their kitten heels and ra-ra skirts with no concern for the brisk November air. Unease starts to kick in and I wonder if I am ready for this. A 56 minute power nap has made me more alert, but secretly I am wanting more time between the sheets, but I [we] need this... It would be good to socialise and enjoy the atmosphere!
After lockdown it wasn't quite the same. Two-stepping in rodent infested establishments, with a pungent smell of decaying furballs because you're finally allowed to socialise and the owners forgot to clear the bodies, just didn't hit like it did in 2019. Now, most of the bars where you used to sweat rivers are posh eateries with people actually eating at them! I stand awkwardly amongst early 20 year olds as they film themselves swaying and miming along to songs for their viewers on snapchat, to abruptly stop and add the appropriate filter once the videoing is over. Others would practice dance moves they'd learnt from tiktok or flex the latest drill-dance again and again as if it would never go out of style.
Where were the dance battles? Where were the wheel-ups??
On one occasion at a flamboyant roller-disco, the DJ had begged for the attendees to come onto the dancefloor. As they quietly stared across the empty area and ignored the request, he continued to rant about the situation and refused to play until people did. Luckily for him, me and 10 others out of the 90 people felt brave enough to appreciate his floor-fillers, but it really did bring down the whole vibe. Once I returned to a more stable environment (my car) and told my instagram family about the ordeal, I vouched to myself that my going out days were coming to an end but here I am, with a friend, searching for vibes in Shoreditch on a Saturday night. The infamous Truman Brewery, a place that was booming with multiple options for music was an empty cobbled street with a few groups on benches discussing their latest watch on Netflix. The deal was if we didn't find somewhere, we'd go home and even though we did kinda find somewhere, by 1am we was ready to hit the hay. An hour searching for somewhere where you used to be able bar hop really broke my heart. The bustling streets and snaking queues were as much in the past as the five day pass and house phones.
Is this how future enjoyments look for the next generation? How would this affect my generation that isn't ready to let go just yet?
It's a tuffy, but social would probably not be the word to describe it. Does this perfectly set up future generations to focus more on online interactions rather than personal? Yes it does, and will those online interactions somehow tie into the future use of AI? Absolutely. Either way, the options will be looking more like an episode of Black Mirror and Westworld rather than your favourite 90s sitcom.
It's kind of scary that you don't have the option to choose anymore... You would reluctantly stay at home to save money or save your energy but now, you stay home because the streets are dry and you don't want to eat out! All I know is that going out out, shaped me into the woman I am today and added to my confidence in someway and I don't know who I'd be if it wasn't for that experience.
Comentarios