Sometimes you gotta go to the Afties.
Photos: Ky Gann
The club is where you meet, but the afters is where you bond. You arrive at a random warehouse, loft, or penthouse in Brooklyn at 8 a.m., still carrying after a full night at Basement, Paragon, or Black Market. One bestie is half asleep, another is still turned up, your sunglasses are still on, and you’re sitting on a stranger’s couch debating nightlife politics, Tinashe’s new album, who munched who, whose contact can deliver the fastest, and whether the closing DJ actually tore or everyone was simply too lit to notice the bad transitions.
A person you met three hours ago in the bathroom line tells you their entire life story. Someone makes a store run for mixers. Someone else takes over the aux or plugs in a USB for an impromptu DJ set. Then somebody pops up with a random government official or an actor from an Amazon Prime series while everyone asks, “Is that who I think that is?” and then acts like they didn’t notice.
And, of course, there is always one bitch slumped in the corner who absolutely should have gone home, yet somehow gets their second wind and is still planning to make it to Nowadays Nonstop.
People love reducing after-hours culture to an assortment of ingested extracurriculars, but it is not always that serious. Sometimes it is simply fun shit to do while you’re young, turnt, and bonded by the unspoken understanding that nobody is ready to go home yet.
Some of those connections disappear by the time you wake up and realize they have already unfollowed you on Instagram. Others become friendships that last an entire month or even an entire season. Either way, there is something special about being wide awake in the daylight, surrounded by people who share your taste in music, your sense of humor, and the questionable physical endurance required to make it the end of the afties.
Party and pump to the afters with a nightlife anchor friend for safety. Have a time
