Hitting 20 has made me feel slightly long in the tooth, suddenly my insatiable appetite for shots and desire to stand in smoking areas with strangers lending out a light has dwindled. Did my frontal lobe just develop?
It’s no secret that people are going out less, with new research from the Night Time Industries Association (NTIA) revealing that 37 percent of clubs have shut in the last 4 years, leading many to believe a pandemic-prompted retirement for many clubbers. There are a range of reasons why Gen Z are partying less, particularly due to the costs associated with clubbing, awareness about the effects of drinking, and ever present concerns about spiking.
Now I’m not completely in my dotage, as the title of this article might suggest, but I certainly have ditched the pints for purling on more than a few occasions. In my first year of uni I had a ceaseless desire for Salvos and Sunday-night-Revs; it was a way to make friends, and to speak candidly, everyone knows first year doesn’t really matter. However, second year hit me like a truck. A truck that was on fire. And driving at 200mph. And had blades for wheels which repeatedly impaled me.
Suddenly all my peers had garnered months worth of experience from what seemed like the darkest depths of nowhere, and they were all suddenly delighted to announce their spring internship offers at big banking firms on LinkedIn. The work piled up, the money ran low, I had two jobs as well as being involved in societies, had meals to make, journal article gibberish to read and responsibilities. The competitive conflagration of adulthood had engulfed me.
Keeping my head above water felt like a real challenge, and instead of being lost on the dancefloor, I wanted to find myself and be grounded. That might sound like wishy-washy hipster 0% IPA balderdash, but I felt utterly useless and astoundingly uninteresting.
Luckily, I had the encyclopedia of existence; an older sister who told me to get a f****** hobby.
This seemed like an oversimplified millennial answer to my sisyphus style struggle. However, it was some of the most useful advice I’d been told for a while. Life seemed to come at me pretty fast all of a sudden, and having something to re-centre my gravity became so important. I’d always quite fancied giving knitting a go; I’ve been passionate about sustainable fashion for years, opting to buy as many second hand garments as possible. I’d also seen Tom Daley knitting on the telly during the Olympics, so thought I’d give it a crack. If one of the most decorated British olympians can do it, why can’t I?
So, I got a set of needles and a ball of yarn, and asked my boyfriend’s mum, a seasoned knitter and general master of all things artsy and crafty, to show me the ropes, and I was on my way to knitting glory. I also used a lot of youtube and TikTok tutorials, which is some of the most studying I’ve done in quite some time. I am not someone with a penchant for handicrafts, and most of my school art projects ended up in the bin. I recall a particularly avant-garde take on Florence Nightingale in Year two, whom I decided was in desperate need of a makeover after watching The Only Way is Essex with my sister. Using the medium of clay, I provided her with a spray tan, an interpretation of stiletto’s, and a vajazzle (which I just thought was just a glitter tattoo, in my defence) the remains of which can still be found in the carpet.
Unsurprisingly, knitting did not come that easily to me, however, for the first time in what felt like forever, I was truly enjoying learning something. I wasn’t aspiring to be the best in my field, I wasn’t competing, I wasn’t meeting deadlines, I was doing something because I truly enjoyed learning a new skill, and felt so devoted to it. My knitting skills evolved much faster than I thought, and I can now make items for loved ones, or recreate a really expensive jumper I saw in a shop window out of a few balls of yarn. The tangible product that comes from the labour is a fantastic reward, and it feels so nice to have a project, one that is without pressure or assessment, something that is just for me. It is relatively predictable (apart from a few slip ups) and feels like a steadying force in my ever-changing life.
I’m not the only Gen Z to pick up the needles, the hobby has seen an exponential re-emergence, and the brand Wool and The Gang, designed by two women who wished to promote knitting and crochet to 18-35 year olds has hit the scene. There is even a plethora knitting influencers through #knittok making patterns and tutorials. I hope to join a knitting group to be able to share my newfound passion with others.
I have also truly come to appreciate the value of garments, especially as I have learnt to make my own. The things I make have value and meaning attached. I remember how I felt making them, where I got the idea from, and have found myself buying less fast fashion (but much more wool). I have also found that my screen time has reduced quite dramatically, and for someone who constantly clicks ‘ignore’ on my own set screen-time limits, that is quite a feat.
Whilst there’s definitely no statistical nexus between the decline of clubbing and re-emergence of knitting, it does tell us something about young lives in current socio-economic engagements. So many of us are caught in corporate chaos, selling our souls for our CV’s whilst being constantly reminded ‘we’ll probably never buy a house.’ It’s much nicer to think that Gen Z have it easy, what with our access to education and avocado on sourdough, but that's not really the truth. What we are so often told are the best years of our life have become ‘the panic years.’ The years of rush and worry, with much less impetus to break loose on the dancefloor, and much more desire to just take a break. Being away from pressures online feels like a privilege. Being able to re-centre, refocus, and just do something for the sake of your own happiness feels like a luxury of the most rare kind. And whilst I do behove you to knit as I think it is simply wonderful, doing something, anything that brings you peace and joy is probably more valuable than scrolling on LinkedIn. Buy that colouring book or paint-by-numbers. Bake bread, paint pots, plant seeds, go swimming or hiking. Just do something for you, not ‘the grind.’ Have something to talk about apart from your career, have something to look forward to. Do something that might make you feel like a 90 year old nan, totally sequestered from any notion of hustle culture. Maybe for you, the thing that makes you feel free is hitting the club, something I still have lots of love for. But it's so important to have something which allows you to step back, get to know yourself and be present. Maybe my frontal lobe did just develop.
