Blaise Tapp: Gen Z don’t deserve criticism – just to enjoy a proper night out
In recent years it has become clear that the favourite pastime of a noisy minority is to give the bright young things that make up Generation Z a jolly hard time.
While inter-generational needle is nothing new, the vitriol that under 30s face is unhinged to say the very least with allegations including, wrongly in my view, that they aren’t serious about their careers and are a self absorbed bunch. My experience of Gen Zs, which admittedly includes my 16-year-old and her pals, is overwhelmingly positive with there being a strong argument that this cohort is the one that cares the most about the world around us.
Having said that, even though I share the same four walls as one I don’t fully understand the generation of Billie Eilish and TikTok.
As well as being full of admiration for our youngest taxpayers I do actually feel more than a little sorry for them because while they seem to be enjoying themselves, they are not having anywhere as much as me and my mates had 30 years ago.
Last week I read a news article that asked the question ‘are gyms the new nightclubs?’ on the basis that an increasing number of younger adults are signing up for fitness clubs while many traditional nightspots across the country continue to struggle. I really hope this isn’t the case because the success of Generation X, those who came of age in ‘80s and ‘90s and now run FTSE 100 companies as well as entire countries, was built on boozy nights out in dodgy looking places with exotic names like Zanzibar and Coco Savannah’s.
I don’t think you can’t claim to have lived if you haven’t experienced being drenched in a stranger’s sweat while attempting to bump and grind on an overcrowded nightfloor, which was sticky to the touch. These were the places where many of us flocked to after 11pm, in a time long before pubs and bars were allowed to open to midnight and beyond. These days there are fewer of these places, which actually makes me sad, as today’s young won’t get to experience the half hour queue for coats from the understaffed cloakroom or the indignity of a lad in white trainers ‘steal’ the last taxi home.
These memories all still burn brightly and I haven’t stepped foot in a club for nearly 20 years which is more recently since I last frequented a gym. I know which I miss more.