I'm glad club culture died

Forget roses. Empty beer bottles, cigarettes, and a bag of questionable white powder are left behind at the club’s tombstone. Clubbing was born in the 1970s and boomed in cities like Los Angeles and Las Vegas. It died in 2020.

The club raised GenXers and millennials to be the people they are today. It taught them about getting drunk and dancing to the newest hit songs like “Low” by Flo Rida and T-Pain. It may have been a dark time, but it filled the previous generations with so much light. Some people miss the club, but I don’t. I’m happy that it died.

The first thing that comes to mind when I think of the club is the early 2000s. Girls dressed in their tightest mini skirts and dresses, their hair flat-ironed with the silly bump in the front, makeup on point, too eager to hit the dance floor.

Clubbers would wait in endless lines to shake off or grind away the worries of the work week. Once inside, the dark engulfed them, and the speakers blasted their eardrums. You had to scream to tell your friend that you were going to the restroom. Ladies, can we talk about the line for the bathroom for a sec? It was like the lines at Disneyland. Sometimes a girl just needs to go. I have a bladder the size of a peanut. Then, you would have to wait in another line to get another drink that will inevitably lead you right back in line for the bathroom. Let’s just say biology wasn’t considered in the club scene.

And then there was the cost. Going out has gotten way too expensive. If you were to go to the club today, you would need an Uber or Lyft, which is never cheap. Then there’s the cover charge just to get in. Once inside, drinks are usually $10-$15 each. You can easily spend half your paycheck at the bar. And after all that effort, you’re probably craving some fast food, but since you’re Ubering, you’re going to spend even more by ordering delivery because after having one too many green tea shots, your common sense went out the door. By the end of the night, you could easily drop over $100. Then, you are left dealing with a hangover that makes you promise never to drink again. Instead, I’d rather stay home in pajamas, watching a rom-com with a face mask on. Why deal with the hassle of going out when staying in feels just as good, if not better?

Gen Z has changed its priorities. Young adults now have more sense and are more into taking care of their health than partying till dawn. At the end of the day, self-care has beaten out self-indulgence.

It’s no longer about spending an hour figuring out what to wear, flat-ironing your hair, or perfecting your mascara. If we want to get trashed that night, we can go to the club in leggings, a hoodie and a messy bun. Can’t we all agree that wearing a tight dress or skirt is far too uncomfortable?

Our generation isn’t dancing much either because how many times can a person get it on to “Best I Ever Had” by Drake?

So yeah, maybe club culture is dead, but in its place, something less anxiety-inducing and more fulfilling is taking its place. The birth and growth of the self-care era should be celebrated. May the club rest in peace.