something something something brat-summer substack post. Mo’ money, mo’ problems or something like that

although this is not autobiographical. I’ve never done drugs, smoked a cigarette, idk what weed is and also what is alcohol. Please hire me, jesus christ. I’m a riot…

Aritzia tracksuit, pilates, car insurance, rent, food, groceries, more food, presto fares, new shoes, drinks – Cosmo, rum and coke, Long Island iced tea, a Heineken, two please; one for me and one for her; no, she’s my friend, not my girlfriend, although we should be – tuition and again next semester, and again the semester after. OSAP, where are you? UTAPS, please don’t let me down. Hey, where are my awards and scholarships, I worked my ass off last year for you to give me nothing? I should have dropped out a while ago. Why? More money for drinks – a Corona with a lime, tequila shot with a lime, can I have a hit of your vape? Do you want to go smoke a cigarette, hey… wanna bump one in the bathroom? Wait, no, they’re playing “360” by Charli, let’s go dance. God, I hate Rebel. God, I hate the Maddy. Crews again? They charge a fortune for a Smirnoff. This one’s on me.

You grimace – you’ve got negative dollars in your bank account and your credit card is about to max out. But why think about that now? You need to get a pack of ciggies, and what’s a night without a fat joint to top it off?

You’re the only one of your friends that worries about it the next day. You don’t want to come off as a cheapskate so you don’t think about how much money you spent on your friends and how little they spent on you. You’re the only one of your friends that spends most Friday and Saturday nights at work. It’s a treat when you get to go out, and you try to go biweekly (the same time you get paid). So, what is this phenomenon? A thirst for going out despite the ruins of a horrible financial situation. Is it because of the Culture or because you like going out? Or is it a secret third thing: a little bit of both and a secret ingredient? 

What does it mean to be broke but want to go clubbing? What does it mean to put yourself into financial debt just to have one night out where you forget about all the bills you have to pay? Ever been at risk of being kicked out because you spent your rent money on a couple of drinks at Apt 200? Ever skipped a week’s worth of groceries just so you could get high, party at Sneaky Dee’s or Century, and then get some shawarma poutine across the street? If clubbing is NOT about hooking up for you and you just want to do cocaine in the bathroom, this is the article for you.

Okay, so, we are now officially in a post-Brat Summer society (Halloweekend is officially over, the last big hooray of 2024 other than New Year’s Eve) and the ramifications of it are stark. Evidence? I have nothing left in my bank account. To be exact, I have -$20 left on my debit card and I’m $2,000 in debt on my credit card (and that’s the max but let’s see how much further I can go before the IRS gets me…).

For those of you who missed it (how could you?), Brat Summer can be summarized in a couple of words: rich people’s cocaine, New York Fashion Week clubbing clothes, “Spring breakers” by Charli XCX, “Rush” by Troye Sivan, neon green, Arial font, starving yourself to fit into those pants, finding yourself in someone else’s bed, Balenciaga top, TikTok shop, a little bit of racism, TikTok, comparing yourself on TikTok, bodychecking, skinny girl’s cocaine, cigarettes and coffee as appetite-suppressants. 

Oh, wait, sorry, we’re not supposed to say that. 

Let me start over, Brat Summer was the direct antithesis to Barbiehemier and the Clean Girl. If you don’t know what Brat Summer means, those other words are probably gibberish too. Barbieheimer was the big event of last summer, centered around how Greta Gerwig’s Barbie (2023) came out on the same day as Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer (2023). If you don’t already see the slight humor in that, let me break it down further: pink, female-centred movie about femininity, the patriarchy, and I’m Just Ken; and grimy war movie about the repercussions of creating weapons and using power for “great responsibilities.” Also, arguably, about the patriarchy. These movies were, in themselves, at least at surface level, two completely different movies that came out from renowned directors featuring big-time actors (big year for white people). Brat Summer was less the antithesis of this event and more so the vibe, which was only working so well due to the Clean Girl aesthetic that rose to some prominence during this period and then sky-rocketed during the fall and winter of 2023 into 2024. But I argue that I saw some common trends between it and Brat Summer that don’t really make them that different. 

Skinny is the new body-positivity.

While Brat Summer encouraged messiness, encouraged being yourself even if it meant not taking off your makeup from a night out and wearing a slutty (rebranded as cunty) pair of shorts, the Clean Girl was about having slicked back hair, a uniformed outfit, a ten-step skincare routine, and a Stanley Cup if you were lucky. But as we cascaded more and more into a performative Clean Girl and the economy really, officially, went to shit, we resorted to what we knew best: partying and doing it with style.

But here’re a couple of reasons why this only worked sometimes: partying also became expensive, style is definitely expensive, and they play horrible music at the club. They were not playing Brat here in Toronto, let me tell you that. 

So, let’s talk about the economy. 

A recession is meant to be a time for more partying but, how come partying isn’t so cheap anymore? 

Though we are not in a recession (yet), it is certainly starting to feel like it. I can’t get any food, fast food or not, that’s less than $15, and a drink at any outside establishment that isn’t the comfort of my home is also at least $15 (meal or a vodka cran?). I’m always at work but my bills seem to be… more. More expensive, more frequent, a month goes by in the blink of my eye. Even though we are not technically in a recession, periods of perpetual and collective broke-ness can be marked by the music of the day. During the 2008 market crash and the years it took to build everything back, American “pop music was marked by fast, frenetic BPMs scientifically proven to induce positive emotions and hooky lyrics that waxed poetic on partying and relentless optimism. Enjoying life in spite of life, and quite literally, dancing our troubles away.” 

Doesn’t that sound a little like the music that came out during the summer? “HOT TO GO,” “Espresso,” “Joyride,” and the entirety of Brat. The rise of music like this also means a rise in going out, getting drunk, sneaky links at the backs of clubs, and shaking ass (flat or phat). But what happens when you have no money left? 

This becomes less a matter of why partying isn’t cheap anymore and more of why is leaving my house so expensive? A Torontonian took to TikTok and encapsulated my thoughts exactly. She said, “Everytime I leave the house I spend a minimum of $100, since when did $100 become the new $20?”

 “I don’t have the money” all of a sudden isn’t even an embarrassing excuse but a joke excuse. Most people think it’s a joke when they hear that phrase so I wonder if all the rich-people-cosplaying-as-poor have turned to their natural ways and let the cat out of the bag. Now they’re making the rest of us look bad… 

Instead, they tell me, “Money always comes back,” almost a whisper chant that echoes in my brain. Wait a second, money always comes back… 

Money always comes back, they say, as they splurge every day on a Venti Starbucks refresher when you have to settle for “juice at home.” Money always comes back, they say, as they sit back and recline after taking two classes a semester while you haul your ass through ice and snow trying to prevent yourself from having to pay an extra year’s tuition yet you’re failing all your classes.

Money always comes back… Apparently, not to me though.

What’s it like to party when you work thrice as hard? 

My main argument is simple: You get drunk easier. You have a little bit more fun. If you wanted to, you could have stayed home and saved some money that should be going towards your well-being. But instead, you chose to go out, and in the end, you had the privilege of that choice. So you get as drunk as you can, you do as many drugs as you can find, and you let your head get muffled with the hysteric BPM. Because tomorrow morning you have work and the day after that you have class. So why bother about everything you’re stressing about when you can just forget it, once every couple of months? For one night, when you get to be just like your UofT peers: you can pretend to be rich. 

The piling regret that exists at the back of your throat will only rise if you don’t take the next shot. On me. Wait a second, I love this song! Wait, no! Dammit, they skipped the best part. Hey, who is this DJ anyway? Some kid from New York who had to book it here because he was so ass. How come we get the leftovers? ‘Cause it’s Toronto, we always get the leftovers. Be great or be nothing, I guess. Whiskey sours? Extra sour. Man, I just wanna hear those Club Classics…