Sincerely, Saskia

I keep seeing these articles about the death of London’s night life and how all of these nightclubs and bars are either shutting their doors at 10pm or closing down for good. Not sure why the tubes are so packed on any given night if that is the case, but hey, I’m sure London night life has a lot more to offer than just rude bouncers and overpriced drinks.

I thought giving up freezing to death for the fashion and staying out until the sun came up in my early-mid twenties made me a giant stick in the mud. But it seems that everyone else wasn’t too far behind, so much so that London’s famed night life is in total disrepair. Whether it’s because there are less and less places to go, Covid traumatised you, or simply because there are just better things to do with your time, nights out at the club are a thing of the past for many – and I for one am not sad to see them go. 

In my late teens to early twenties, there was absolutely nothing that would stop me from going on a night out. Not being broke, not being unable to find an outfit and definitely not the fact that it was only a Monday. My friends and I would pre-drink like sailors and then head to the club, often not leaving until the lights came on and everyone was exposed for looking like drunk gremlins, desperate to be fed after midnight by questionable kebab shops and sketchy – yet, conveniently placed – burger vans. 

I will admit to missing those hour-long – and often tearful – bathroom conversations with random girls at the peak of your drunkenness – no conversation will ever compare.

Those nights have given me an equal number of great and absolutely mortifying memories that I will always remember, but the idea of indulging in such a lifestyle again – because it is a lifestyle, just not a very good one – is the least appealing thing to me.

The idea alone of getting blackout drunk, tactical chunders, taking night buses home (or Ubers if it was a good day), scoffing down food I wouldn’t look at twice if I was sober, waking up just to pray for death and spending the whole next day trying to get the room to simply stop spinning is now my idea of an absolute living nightmare. And it doesn’t take much to see why. 

Honestly, I never thought I’d get to a place where my idea of fun didn’t revolve around everything I listed above – and then some. I had fun in other ways too: little days out, go to random events or simply hanging out a friend’s house, but there weren’t many occasions where going ‘out out’ didn’t follow whatever sober thing we had done earlier that day. People who used to say, “I don’t have to drink to have fun,” always came across self-righteous and uppity with a point to prove, but the older I get, and bear in mind I’m not even 30 yet, the more I get it. 

For me, the shift happened when I was 23/24, which was a lot younger than I ever expected to pack in a way of life I thought I’d be embracing until I was 30 – but then again, I started pretty young. I will admit to missing those hour-long – and often tearful – bathroom conversations with random girls at the peak of your drunkenness – no conversation will ever compare. In all honesty, I fell in love with waking up in the morning and having the whole day ahead of me, completely unhindered by a hangover. The things you can pack into a day when you’re not curled up in the fetal position regretting all your life choices is astonishing. 

Going ‘out out’ now is getting all dressed up, going to restaurants I’ve been dying to try… make memories I can remember clearly and that don’t bring up strong feelings of embarrassment and regret.

I still go out to bars every now and then, because who doesn’t love a Long Island Iced Tea or Frozen Margarita, but there’s definitely a shift, a change in pattern. The goal is never to get drunk, and not only because it takes the amount of a small swimming pool to really get me there these days, but because I just don’t need it to have fun anymore. When it does happen, it’s a happy occurrence but it doesn’t stop me from going into work the next day or honouring plans I’ve made. I’m not surrounded by friends for the night, everyone trying so hard to impress each other, be someone they’re not all in the name of ‘fun’, because when you are, drinks are 100% essential to be able to tolerate all that. When I go out now, I know how I’m getting home, I know I’m going to be around people I like and I don’t feel the need to keep going for the sake of ‘catching a vibe’. 

My version of going ‘out out’ now is getting all dressed up, going to restaurants I’ve been dying to try, seeing what the latest London obsession is like Superblue, or Frameless, shit bubble museums or a good old artist pop up. Seeing a show, going to lavender fields that we get stranded at, gross, overpriced afternoon tea (I’m looking at you Studio Ghibli pop up at Selfridges), travelling (when time and money allows for it), things that make memories I can remember clearly and that don’t bring up strong feelings of embarrassment and regret every time I call on them. 

Do I miss pre drinking with my friends while getting ready and blaring music out? No, because I still do those things, the end destination is simply just not the club. A festival every now and then, go for it. Concerts, movie nights or dinners where one of us is hosting, yes to all. But if you ever see me in a club, an actual nightclub, not a bar with a little dance floor, then I’ve probably been kidnapped and forced to attend… either that or it’s someone’s birthday and I felt bad for saying no. 

The fact that the lack of presence at London’s nightclubs are now the subject of lifestyle and culture magazines says that I’m definitely not the only person who has swapped their Friday night heels for a pair of trainers to go with their ‘jeans and nice top’. The clubbing renaissance was a lot of fun, and no real harm was ever done – except to my mental state – but I’m more than happy for that version of myself to exist deep in the archive of Google photos and Snapchat memories; only to be reminded of them when my phone wakes me up to a slide show of red lipstick selfies and group photos of people I don’t remember.