Club culture is slowly losing ground. In the past five years since the pandemic, late-night venue attendance amongst Gen Zs has fallen in nightlife hubs all around the world, from London to Singapore. But why?
“I’m going to catch the last train.” says at least one friend in the group whenever you’re out at a function or at a party. The unofficial curfew to have a good time is now 1130PM, or whenever the MRT station closes its shutters. Pandemic-era habits die hard, as the stay-at-home generation persists going out late at night. Earlier this year, The Straits Times reported claiming that many Gen Zs in Singapore now see late-night partying as ‘a waste of money and time.’ While that might hold weight, the desire for belonging, community and socialising is stronger than ever. Human connection drives everything, but the medium is merely just shifting.
Welcome To The World Of The Daytime Party
It can be reduced down to a few simple factors. The economy isn’t doing well, people are drinking less globally (attributing factors: health, new age prohibition laws and rising costs) and disposable incomes are shrinking. Not everybody wants to drink. And if they do, not everybody can afford a $25 pregame cocktail, $30 cover charge and a $35 cab home in a single night, so comes a mass cultural mood shift that’s been redefining how people socialise. A new format is taking market share: the daytime party.
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There are many different adaptations to this new arrangement. Some are as you traditionally expect it, the same flashing lights, dance floor and makeshift bar except with moved up DJ set times and travel arrangements back home still accessible to many. Others have flipped it on its head. In place of alcohol and mixers are cups of coffee and other caffeinated accoutrements, sold at $7 a piece. It’s certainly cheaper than alcohol, and you wear the badge of sobriety with other likeminded event goers. The concepts are novel, innovative, and all wildly unique on their own.
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For example, party collective 5210PM is a Gen Z-initiated project that started off focusing on a dance party space that runs from, you guessed it, 5PM to 10PM. As one of the newer harbingers in creating a more inclusive party culture here in Singapore, the focus shifts from all-nighters to sound sessions that peak at sunset and trickle down as evening progresses. Even at the end of the event, the night is still favourably young. “We are strong believers that partying should be accessible to all.” adds Javan, one of the co-founders of the collective. “It should never be a luxury to enjoy good music and company”. Gen Z is backing the trend with their wallets, as similar events start to multiply — even some eateries, like cafes and bars have started adopting this event format.
On the other end of the spectrum is Beans&Beats, a caffeine-powered party movement centered on sober partying in community spaces like local cafes, retail spaces and roof tops at the afternoon primetime. Their philosophy is simple yet disruptive: They believe that the underground music genres most commonly associated with night can shine equally as bright in the day. Positioning themselves as an alternative to traditional nightlife, they’ve captured media headlines and public curiosity alike, offering an experience that swaps out cocktails for specialty coffee and late nights for daylight energy. As these collectives experiment with timing, spaces and formats, the language they use to describe their events becomes just as important in defining what daytime partying actually means.
How Is Daytime Partying Being Defined Linguistically?
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What is also noticeable is how these newer, unique spaces are still trying to find their footing within the community — a process that often comes at the cost of linguistic clarity, as they experiment with the language and identity that will define them. The ‘rave’- suffix — in this case, ‘coffee raves’ or ‘matcha raves’ as some collectives are now calling it, is arguably a misappropriation, taking the cultural weight and rebellious connotations of nightlife terminology to market formats that differ in both intent and atmosphere, yet still wish to tap into it’s allure. Raves are more commonly associated with much grittier activities in mind. Abandoned venues, neon lights, DIY energy and 2AM set times organised by society’s deemed outcasts are what you think of when you think of ‘rave’. In this light, the suffix’s use becomes a commodified oxymoron. While the daytime party scene continues to grow, these spaces that are negotiating identity have to grapple balancing homage to the underground culture with accessibility and respectful community engagement. Whatever language that they adopt, whether playful, borrowed or even misappropriated, becomes a marker of their legitimacy, signaling to audiences what kind of experiences they can expect while carving out their space within the community. But this negotiation of identity raises a broader question about the accessibility of leisure itself.
So, Is Partying Now A Luxury?
Has partying become a privilege, a sort of exclusive indulgence that only few can afford? The answer could very well be.
People are cutting back on expenses. A 2024 global consumer outlook by AlixPartners states that more than 75% of consumers expect to reduce overall spending, with about 34% plan to spend less on dining and going out. And it’s not just money that they’re saving, but time as well. This then comes to question: is it work-life balance or capitalistic optimisation? A mindset adopted by the newer generation is this mindfulness of time. As mentioned before, socialising patterns are changing in front of our eyes. Shaped by the current recessionary climate, according to a recent CNA survey, 65% of Gen Z workers say work-life balance is a key reason when choosing a job. Mental and financial wellness come into mind. Traditional late-night partying clashes with our desire for restorative sleep to prepare for work the very next day. Unlike our millennial counterparts, that age and mindset of partying is a long bygone era. Nobody can afford to be reckless now. The economic pressure is real. A lot of the new generation still lack savings, and the sentiment is now shifting toward more ‘intentional’ living.
“I organise my leisure time like how I would work and study,” a friend who studies in NUS tells me. “I want to enjoy myself but not at the expense of missing class in the morning or my job the next day,” she adds.
The daytime party seems to be a symptom of this cultural shift. It’s socialising, optimised: you get music, community, and still manage to clock in eight hours of sleep before work. The people still want to have fun — there is no denying that — but leisure is now partly crafted around responsibility and fear. Every activity done requires a return on investment. Fun is now measured for efficiency, or, like a double entendre, has a dual purpose for networking or meeting KPIs.
What Can We Make Of It?
In the end, the daytime party isn’t necessarily a trend, it’s a reflection of the times. It’s not a new concept, much like the emergence of brunch culture in the 2010s after the 2008 financial crisis. But as the phenomenon unfolds as we speak, one has to wonder: is the daytime party a burgeoning movement soon to adopt the norm, or merely a phase that will ebb and flow with the economy? The ultimate question is: will this produce a new dichotomy of partygoers, and in turn, a larger cultural divide?
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