Lately, drinking alcohol makes me feel old.
I don’t just mean that my hangovers last longer, or that it takes less booze for me to feel slow the next day — though both have occasionally proven true since I turned 40.
I mean that drinking alcohol now seems uncool. It has gone the way of side parts and skinny jeans: Young people don’t do it anymore.
A 2023 analysis from Gallup found that only 62% of folks aged 18 to 34 ever drink (like, ever), compared to 72% of that age group 20 years ago.
Fresh-faced TikTokers document sobriety, the “damp” lifestyle, and New York City's mocktail hotspots with a sweet combo of earnestness and glee. Promos for non-alcoholic or “zero-proof” beverages increasingly populate my Instagram feed.
Plus, more and more research points to the many health risks of excessive or even moderate drinking.
A scene from a sober cocktail party attended by the author.
Meanwhile, sober parties have been popping up around New York City, and based on the breathless walk-and-talk promos I’ve seen on social media, these may involve mocktails, live music, DJs, raffles and games.
So when I got invited to a “sober cocktail party” at a Brooklyn speakeasy, it felt like an opportunity to learn from the kids.
Why I wanted to attend a sober cocktail party
First, I love a good cocktail party. (Emphasis on “good” — I hate the boring ones as much as anyone.) I’ve even made some of my best friends with a little help from spirits.
In today’s wellness-saturated climate, I’m not too proud of that, but I’m also not alone. People have been using alcohol to loosen up and forge social bonds for thousands of years.
One of the most salient memories of my 20s was watching a handful of sailors infiltrate — and significantly enhance — a cocktail party during New York Fleet Week. They’d been on their ship for weeks and released a lot of pent-up dance moves on someone’s Lower East Side rooftop. They weren’t drinking mocktails.
But when it comes to the ills of alcohol, the teetotalers are not wrong and I’ve been drinking mindfully for more than 10 years now.
Sober and energetic early morning dance parties like Daybreaker make sense to me. They're basically giant communal workouts where you put on some leggings and get down to awesome tunes — dropping your inhibitions is baked in.
But I couldn’t wrap my head around a sober cocktail party. I pictured standing around with strangers. Where would the endorphin rush come from? Would there be any of the social bonding and shenanigans I love?
I bought a ticket for $28 and talked an old friend into joining me at Club Curious in Williamsburg.
What it was like to attend the sober cocktail party
I arrived at the party before my friend, so I decided to do a quick lap to get the lay of the land.
Fuchsia lighting bathed the dark space, which was dotted with dimmed lamps, mirrors and drapery that gave it a speakeasy feel.
A stylish crowd already filled the room. They weren’t kids; many looked to be in their 30s. Women wore flared dresses, wide pants, bold prints and corseted vests. The men donned graphic tees, collared shirts and blazers. Footwear included a mix of loafers, stilettos, Chuck Taylors and Hokas.
Mike Vosters, a “nomadic DJ” and founder of the popular Matinee Social Club (the email list my invite came from), was set up in the corner, pumping out a very good mix of music from across several decades.
DJ Mike Vosters performed at the event.
Soon, a masked man seemed to spot me from across the room and confidently approached. He gave me a folding hand fan.
He had emcee vibes, and indeed turned out to be the part's host: JW Wiseman, founder of Curious Elixirs, a popular brand of booze-free cocktails, and a pioneer in New York’s sober-curious scene. (Note: Wiseman didn’t know I was a journalist until later, when I asked for his contact to schedule a chat. I paid my own way into the party.)
I asked the host which of the menu’s eight “cocktails” I should order.
“Well, how do you want to feel?” he said. “Do you want to go up, or go down?”
The question made me feel more at ease: See, non-drinkers want to change their state of mind, too. Part of me also thought, “Gotcha!”
I could not imagine wanting a downer. “Up, definitely,” I said.
He recommended the pomegranate “negroni” made with gentian and rhodiola, a plant combo the menu claimed would boost my mood. (The menu also included the following caveat: “These statements have not been reviewed by the FDA and are not intended to treat or cure disease.”)
I headed to the crowded “bar” (is it a bar if it’s not a bar?) and placed my order. My ticket included one drink; additional drinks could be purchased for $9 each or three for $20.
As I sipped my negroni, a woman passed by. I made eye contact — which means “you may approach” in the official international cocktail party language.
My friend arrived, grabbed a drink, and the three of us had a lengthy conversation. It was perfectly lovely – we talked about work, the space and other sober events she’s enjoyed – but it lacked the freewheeling level one reaches with help from an actual cocktail. It reminded me of a networking event. When my new friend and I parted ways, we traded info via Linkedin.
“We want to party, but center it around creativity instead of alcohol,” Wiseman explained later in a phone interview.
He has a background in New York’s nightlife scene, and started Curious Elixirs 10 years ago, when he woke up after a wild night and, like, 20 drinks. “I had no hangover — that’s the part that scared me.”
Back at the cocktail party, my friend and I took a seat on a bench next to the stage. A burlesque dancer, the famous Pearls Daily, shimmied and bounced with dollar bills stuffed behind ribbons on her legs.
She was really good. I felt a little guilty for not being in the mood to hoot and carry on. I didn’t hear any of the enthusiasm you’d expect from a tipsy crowd. I wondered if it bothered her, but she was a total pro about it.
Burlesque dancer Pearls Daily also performed at the sober cocktail party.
My mind turned to the dissonance. Although the room contained so much of the New York nightlife I know — the lighting, the DJ and the dancer — the energy inside was muted. I had to admit to myself that a light buzz may have enhanced the party for all of us.
My friend looked from the dancer to the crowd, and back to the dancer. “It’s a cool scene,” I remarked. I meant it. It wasn’t bad, just different.
“Yeah. But look at the two girls behind you.” I pulled off a casual glance. They looked serene, but not joyful. They lightly bopped to the music.
“I mean, I guess that’s dancing?” my friend said. She smirked. “It’s sober dancing!”
After about 90 minutes, we’d had our fill. We were two old friends looking to reconnect… and we knew just the spot for that. We headed to Maison Premiere on Bedford Ave. and I savored many laughs over — no joke — perhaps the best cocktail of my life.
What to expect if you try a sober party
I feel mixed about it.
On the plus side, the entertainment was good, and I probably cut my drink intake in half that night. I woke up feeling great. But I didn’t love the low energy. After we left, a saxophonist lit his horn on fire and people used it to toast marshmallows. An attempt at shenanigans, but the footage does make me laugh — look how the sober crowd just stands there.
There are other ways to socialize while not drinking.
One reason social drinking can feel good is because alcohol can trigger endorphins — hormones that give a feeling of wellbeing and play a role in social bonding. Other ways to get that rush include laughter, dancing and making new friends.
If I’m looking to bond with old friends or make new ones but don’t feel like drinking, I’d probably take a class or head to the park, a museum or a concert instead.
For better or worse, New York is still a drinking town.
If you put too much weight on the headlines, you might get the impression that New York City’s culture has changed. But from the looks of things as our Uber dropped us off on Bedford Avenue at 11 p.m. on that Wednesday, the streets were alive and the bars were packed.
