This article will be a bit personal. Every year I get to experience something for the first time, and 2024 was the first time I went to a party and actually enjoyed it. Nothing surprising, you may say, after all, what else are parties for then. Well, for me it wasn’t that obvious.
Since my childhood, I carried the labels of “introverted child,” “goody two shoes,” and most importantly, the notion that “I’m not going to get drunk ever to know how to loosen up.” It was that latter that kept me away from every club, party or livelier celebration for a long time. I was simply extremely uncomfortable dancing sober in front of others; I just couldn’t unwind. And getting drunk was out of the question, the nuns at my Catholic school had armed me for that more than enough.
Brat Album Cover
Not that I don’t like dancing, quite the opposite. You’d see that Shakira behind closed doors! But probably my internalized homophobia and a few other factors prevented me from venturing into something that comes so naturally to many young people.
Recipe for a good party
When I asked my younger sister, my court jester on proper student life, what the big deal was about clubs anyway, her answer was: “You don’t always actually have fun. It depends a lot on the people, the DJ and most importantly, 2-3 vodkas as an opener can make quite a difference.” This is exactly what I was thinking about, when I ended up at a networking event later that included an end of the night party. After the trivia was over (which my inner nerd was much more excited about), people started gathering at the dance floor and I started panicking. So I headed to the bar, and just like the recipe ‘a la Rachel’, I downed a few shots to help me out. In the queue, I started chatting with some girls, and the contact also helped me get through the night. And not only to get through, I have very fond memories of that evening.
Thinking back on how this party was different from my previous strained attempts to awaken my disco self, I have to give kudos to my sister Rachel. The people did a lot – we talked a while before the party, we got along and I felt accepted. And since it was mostly girls, the DJ had to adjust the music selection to that. I found that I could move to Lady Gaga and Rihanna much better than to electro or trance, which I had previous experience with back home in Austria. White girl pop apparently does the trick for me.
What Does Charli Have to Do with It?
This isn’t the only party that I’ve been to this year and that was fun. I guess it’s like first love, first sex or driving – the next time you try it, your confidence will be a little higher than it was the first time. I also give some credit to the author of Brat, who was literally everywhere in my bubble this summer, for getting me started.
Brat refers to a middle school angst, and according to my research on the internet, instead of being a good girl, Charli wanted to give space to her imperfect, somewhat messy self who enjoys life to the fullest. I’m not kidding myself that I’ve adopted this mindset, quite the opposite. “You are too nice,” Maciek yelled at me as I politely stepped aside to the tenth person crowding around me in the club. An image of a stiff kid with all his homework done flashed through my head, and I told myself I’d probably never be brat. My Polish friend also concluded that we probably weren’t brat enough when the songs at the CharliXCX and Kesha themed party somehow went downhill and it was hard to tune into the vibe of others.
How Much of a Brat I Am
I’ve really had a lot of fun with some of the definitions of brat summer. According to Vogue Czechia, it’s time for a wild woman who isn’t afraid of parties, nor their consequences.” “This reminds me of the Bravo Girl summer editions from 15 years ago,” wrote one comment below a post explaining this green era. And as much as I wish to be the best from Brat Summer message (or Hot Girl Summer, or any summer from 15 years ago), I can see myself only in the messy and blunt girl who occasionally says dumb things. But that’s the way I’ve always been, whatever the summer trends say.
I’ve found myself a little in the definition of Slovak SME daily, according to which brat summer is “when you’re riding home from the club in a cab at 4:30 in the morning, it’s getting bright outside, and you go to bed dressed with a mascara on your eyes.” I indeed ended up in that situation a few times this year, except for the mascara thing for now. It was about time, too, because at seventeen I simply had other priorities.
However, this year it was more of a conscious suppression of my uncomfortable feelings, which I’m not too proud of. That’s also why I’m going into 2025 with more of a “clean girl aesthetic” outlook, which Charli hated upon so much. Still, I’m grateful for all this green madness. Not just because of the bangers from this album that have accompanied me on my summer hikes. I wouldn’t even say I became a party goer. But I want to believe that through stepping out of my comfort zone, I’m one step closer to embracing the raw version of myself, as mother Charli suggests.