It’s a day of the week, and you know what that means: a slew of Partiful reminders about yet another birthday party tonight, held by the colleague of a friend of an acquaintance you met that one time at whatstheirface’s party and followed on Instagram. (They rarely watch your stories, but it’s fine.) At some apartment, somewhereabouts—hopefully not Bushwick. It’s one of several anxieties to consider because Phillip, the JAŸ-Z-worshipping homie hosting tonight’s party, may have overbooked. Seriously, if every listed person goes—most of whom you definitely do not know, no matter how much Partiful insists your shared past events make you “friends” or potential “crushes”—they could not possibly smush into that living room, or squeeze through the Long Hallway. Right?
Even if your experience doesn’t quite match that, you know the feeling: the apprehension, anticipation, and stress of hitting up a birthday party in any part of Brooklyn, at any moment of time, on any day of the week. You still haven’t adjusted to the post-pandemic social compact, a backdrop of understaffed bars with odd hours of operation and dried-out park fields and brand-new third places that became defining scenes for the Scene before you’ve fully processed how much younger everyone looks now. You’re intimidated enough that you’ve begun questioning your hard-earned priors, the interpersonal patterns and drink-by-drink tells curried over a lifetime of shameful, shameless encounters and the very full social calendar you’ve achieved through years of hands shaken, and shots taken.
Anyway, fear not: Your humble correspondent is here, less to boast of any unique social aptitude than to serve as a guide for navigating the Brooklyn Birthday Party circuit in an era when everyone around you is capturing your essence with Mark Zuckerberg’s smart glasses. This is one part diary, one part field guide, one part advice column for how to stay booked and busy all summer.
Each day of the week holds space for a wide range of vibes, uncomfortable encounters, pleasant meet-cutes, introductions to random mutuals materializing in their terrifying corporeal form in front of you, and chances to yell at everyone who isn’t up on the latest Starker tape or this week’s bootleg sports memorabilia. For each day, a different type of party, a different form of etiquette, and a promise to help you only further the good vibes.
Monday
Theme of the day: “Manic Monday” (Prince demo)
It’s summer, so everyone you know is already looking for an excuse to get out there and show some thigh. But it’s just after the weekend, and no one wants to put in that much effort after the Monday grind. So today, per the texts, is Park Day. Prospect, obviously. Feel free to bike there if the weather’s looking clear, but make sure to leave your cycle far outside the group’s picnic boundaries, and to keep an extra eye on it just in case. Luckily, you’ve got a backpack that fits everything and makes for comfy wearing on the ride over.
Bring along some beers and, more importantly, some cups or brown paper bags to hide them from the cops. Feel free to bring your shades and some weed, too. Sure, you may be nervous about sharing with such a wide circle, but here’s some good news: The price of a legal eighth has actually gone down, and you’ll earn a lot of goodwill. (That being said: If smoking’s not the mood there, don’t force it!) Also, make sure you have your phone charged and ready, in case you have some lovely conversations and wanna stay in touch.
Tuesday
Theme of the day: “Tuesday” by iLoveMakonnen (the original, not the Drake remix)
The new bar on your block is offering tattoos tonight, or so they’re saying. Indeed, you trek in early evening for a pregame and you find a neighbor laid out, gettin’ inked. It’s already weird enough trying to squeeze past that scene just to hit the bar for a $12 lager. So don’t keep that tab open, in the event you want to give up and make a hasty exit. At any rate, you’ve got to make sure you’re in OK shape to make it over to that rooftop party over in Fort Greene and navigate the nonsensical public transit paths thereabouts. (If you’re taking the bus? Forget about nabbing a seat. Pack light and be ready to stand.)
Dress light to keep yourself cool in case the guests crowd in front of the only A/Cs and fans inside.
Worse, once you get there, you find that the rooftop portion of the party has been canceled—no sunsets or skyline views or inconvenient breezes that make it 10x harder for anyone to light their cigs. The reason? Some guy had taken his shoes off downstairs and then, upon reaching the shaggy roof, stepped onto the glinting remnants of a Modelo bottle. Be prepared for anything: Dress light to keep yourself cool in case the guests crowd in front of the only A/Cs and fans inside, apply an extra layer of deodorant, and pack along some breath mints, perhaps in just a tote bag this time. Trust me, the hosts will be grateful that you’re doing what you can to stanch the collective rank of B.O. the aluminum-free sickos are subjecting the crowd to.
There will inevitably be a smoke break, a few gaggles outside of folks puffing all sorts of stuff—a joint, a spliff, a carton of Japanese cigarettes that a pal brought back from a conference, complete with those mortifying lung images on the box. Keep your nose clear to identify, by scent, the circle you’d prefer to join.
Wednesday
Theme of the day: “Elderberry Wine” – Wednesday (version: your friend’s janky Instagram recording from last November’s Brooklyn Steel show, which, ironically, was held on a Tuesday)
You knew karaoke night was coming; you just didn’t remember when. So when you’re on the train over to the infamous Alligator Lounge, where your buddy has rented out a room for an Incredible Hulk party, stocked with heaps of paper cups next to full bottles of Henny and Hipnotiq (make sure to Venmo/CashApp/Zelle them after!), you frantically flip through potential karaoke standards in your head and frustrate yourself at how unimaginative they are.
You’re never going to rap as well as you think you are, and your clever pop-album deep-cut picks aren’t going to earn the winks and murmurs of recognition you’re dying for from this crowd of strangers.
May I offer some advice here? Keeping it simple is always your best bet. I must warn you that you’re never going to rap as well as you think you are, and your clever pop-album deep-cut picks aren’t going to earn the winks and murmurs of recognition you’re dying for from this crowd of strangers. And please: You never need to do “Pink Pony Club” or “Piano Man” ever again. Just keep in mind that it’s not about how well you imitate the artist; it’s about the show you put on. Millennial and Gen X nostalgia is never out of date, whether it’s a grunge standard or a turn-of-the-millennium boy band or Latin-pop crossovers. Boyz II Men will always kill. So will Oasis, so will Whitney and Britney, so will Ricky Martin and Selena (RIP). And if you’re even passable in Spanish, deeeeefinitely break out the Bad Bunny. Lastly: Don’t be a hog! Allow everyone, in the party and outside of it, a chance to rock the mic.
Thursday
Song of the day: “Thursday’s Child”/“Rebel Rebel” (Live on Saturday Night Live) – David Bowie
Tonight, you weren’t expecting to do much. If anything, you’d planned to take it sleazy, preserving your energy for what promised to be a long, locked-in weekend of plans. Scratch that—you got a DM from a friend about how one of your favorite comedians is hosting a surprise birthday tonight, way over in [heavy sigh] Bushwick. It’s a little pricey, and the venue’s a bit unusual (a roller rink named Xanadu??), but hey, how often do you get chances like these? Be sure to leave much earlier than usual, in case there are any delays along the winding transit path. Just stick with a tote bag this time, a non-pretentious brand. (You know exactly what I’m talking about.) Bring a book for the ride, and leave your Stanley Cup/Hydroflask/planet-saving steel cylinder at home. The TSA-worthy bouncers out front will inevitably force you to empty it out. Avoid the “horse ketamine” all the Bushwick zoomers you know are taking these days.
Bring a book for the ride, and leave your Stanley Cup/Hydroflask/planet-saving steel cylinder at home.
Friday
Theme of the day: “Friday” – Ice Cube
It ain’t just birthday season. It’s also … cuffing season! Nuptials, bachelor/ette parties, and baby showers abound, and we know you may also need some tips on keeping it fresh for the reception, especially if you’re getting looped in on a Friday night.
First off: Don’t overthink the dress code. If you’re a white person attending, say, a Hindu wedding and are concerned about rocking a kurtha because something something cultural appropriation, don’t hesitate to ask the hosts themselves, but also: Take it from me, we love when everyone can celebrate in our silky wear, saris and lenghas and all. For the more standard walk-up-the-aisle weddings, you don’t need a suit or too schmancy a dress, I promise. Just make sure to look snappy with non-clashing colors, and pick some clothes with ample pocket space. Yes, even a dress; you’ll be grateful to have pockets later, I guarantee it. Don’t pregame things. Keep yourself at a steady but unaggressive drinking clip, and be ready to dance—but do not, I repeat, do not get messy on the dance floor. That’s a great way to never get invited back. Oh, and also: Please don’t forget to check the registry beforehand. And don’t feel bad about proffering a cash donation instead of a delivered or wrapped gift. Those honeymoon funds don’t exactly gather compound interest.
Saturday
Theme of the day: “A Roller Skating Jam Named Saturdays” – De La Soul
Your cheeky and extremely online friends have today decided to allude to The News and play into the tradcath weirdness for a Catholicism-themed party. They’re suggesting it all on the email invite (that’s right—no Partiful this time): fake cross tattoos, modest dress, scepters and necklaces with Latin etchings. You’re going to do something funnier, though—a special-edition White Sox jersey affixed with a big ol’ tribute to Pope Leo, aka Bob from Chicago. The jersey is too arch and confusing. No one gets the joke. Careful with these investments in the future!
Sunday
Theme of the day: “Sunday Morning (Acoustic)” – Maroon 5
It’s a midday beach day this time, and the weather likewise appears to be mid, if your forecasting app can be trusted: plenty of dark clouds and shrouded mugginess when it isn’t raining. Hungover and headache-laden though you may be, you’re going to be a trooper and drag your ass to the Rockaways. Don’t feel bad about keeping your belongings low-key: a little gift, something to puff, sunscreen and bug spray, your towel and post-swimsuit change of clothes.
Don’t continue to moan about your aching head, or about the wafting odors. You don’t want to be a downer when the Sunday scaries are already aplenty within the group. The most essential thing about a Sunday party is to steady the balance: Everyone’s feeling bedraggled, perhaps overstuffed from brunch, and they don’t want to be too hyped up. Nor should they– you’re all RSVP’d to birthday happy hour drinks after work tomorrow.
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