Gen Zs, you are partying too politely

Full disclosure: At 28 years old, I am a Gen Z crone who can pass for a sprightly millennial, and from this fence-sitter's vantage, the oft-discussed, rarely understood Gen Z party scene looks grim.

- Carmen Sin

My younger peers prefer to call it a night by lam, or earlier, to catch the last train. They are laying off booze in favour of caffeine-fuelled jiving—ceremonial-grade matcha or artisanal coffee, if you please—and can be coaxed into a night out only with cut-price cover fees and aggressive social media marketing.

It should be every parent's dream, but this early-onset sensibility runs counter to centuries of sloshy revelry and so cannot help but puzzle.

When 5,000 people turned out for a "sober rave" at Funan mall in late August, it made the news. The three 21-year-olds behind the Beans&Beats event took over the mall's foodcourt, Mexican-themed fast-food chain Guzman y Gomez and a sportswear store for two nights.

Cups of coffee going for $10 each were the only beverages on sale and the function ran from 10pm to lam. An eyewitness heard the crowd singing along to the 2019 hit Senorita by American singer Camila Cabello and Canadian singer Shawn Mendes.

To me, that's a fete worse than death. But personal preference aside, this responsible turn feels unhealthy.

The 18- to 25-year-olds in question raise eminently sound reasons for this shift. They want to save the $50 cab fare back home, they don't want to wake up hungover and useless the next day, and can avail themselves of run clubs, dating apps or social media to meet new people.

Besides, they came of age during the shut-in Covid-19 pandemic years, when fashion sense and a doctoral grasp of memes became new signifiers of "cool", displacing the scuzzy glamour of the wild child. Yet, this new respectability feels more like preciousness.