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Whether you’re ducking under a storefront grill at a rave, killing time in front of a velvet rope, or figuring out which hotel elevator has roof access — you can get good at going out. We need you to, for everyone’s benefit: There’s a dearth of charisma and general non-loserdom in nightlife right now. People are being embarrassing with their phones instead of dancing or otherwise engaging in human interaction, and it’s getting scary out here. As we clamber back outside this summer, let’s be the change we want to see. Let’s start acting normal at the club.
As an avid party girl, I’ve received bottle service I could never otherwise afford while wearing jeans and a T-shirt, watched the sun rise from a hollowed-out factory, cemented close friendships in line for porta-potties across the nation, and rung in New Year’s Day in an “ambient room” where the vibe exploded (in the best way) because someone put on Future. I haven’t seen it all, but I’ve seen a lot. My sense of nightlife etiquette is based on what cool people are usually doing, and, conversely, the gaffes of the less aware. (They’re additionally informed by a guy who climbed onstage and tried to attack the DJ, forcing security to pause the whole event to 86 him. This is an easy “don’t.”)
It comes down to realizing that other people aren’t obstacles to your good time — they’re your brothers in arms agitating against digital-first socialization and regulated sleep schedules. For more guidance, I talked to DJs, club owners and staff, and party organizers about who and what they most like to see at the function. Here’s how to get in, get loose, and get invited to the afters.
Outfits, supplies, and door politics
Have a real dinner beforehand. Zoë Beery develops safety programs for clubs and festivals — she’s kind of like a rave lifeguard. Beery described partying as a “durational athletic event,” meaning, just picking at shared plates before you go won’t cut it. (Don’t be afraid to take advantage of food at the event when it’s available, which is also a sign that you’re at a really good party.)
Wear an outfit that can take a beating. There’s a reason ravers love hiking gear. Forgo the dress that photographs great but disintegrates upon contact with machine-issued fog. A few stress tests I like to try: Am I comfortable doing a forward fold? Will it ruin my night if someone steps on my shoes? Can I sweat in this without feeling wet or stuffy for the rest of the party?
Unless you’re a professional, don’t wear super-tall heels. Especially if you’re drinking or otherwise deviating from sobriety. They’re banned at some venues (like Basement) because stilettos plus sticky floors are a liability nightmare. You will absolutely twist an ankle.
If you’re nervous about the door, try to blend in. Check the Instagram location tag to see what other people wore. Assume a relaxed vibe and a friendly smile. Otherwise, just wear big pants, ballet flats or loafers, and a hot little top. I’ve gotten into Paul’s Casablanca in this outfit while carrying my laptop in my work backpack.
Be polite to the bouncer. Assume a relaxed affect and a friendly smile, and don’t show up too fucked up, because the only look sure to get you turned away is “wasted.”
Carry earplugs. Some parties will have those squishy disposable sets, but you can’t count on it. I recently had to chew a stray foam earplug I found in my purse in half at a DJ set I paid more than $50 to attend because the venue wasn’t handing out or selling any. It worked … okay.
Drugs are BYO. Hypothetically speaking: You wouldn’t be the person asking strangers for molly at 4 a.m. You’d be discreet, as not to get the club (or yourself) in trouble with an undercover cop. You’d tuck valuables in your sock or bra to pass a bag check. You’d drink a lot of water, especially if you were sweating or felt overheated. (No need to chug — just sip a cup slowly every time you take a break from the dance floor, or ask a friend to remind you every so often.)
Small bills are a godsend. You might be able to tip your bartender on your card, but not the coat-check worker letting you fish cigarettes out of your puffer, or the bathroom attendant turning a blind eye while you slip a friend into your stall.
Don’t argue with the bouncer. If you do get turned away, or find yourself waiting in line for longer than you want to, that’s life. Huffily insisting on your ultraspecial VIP status (real or otherwise) isn’t worth getting banned. Remember: If things seem dicey, you can always get into Club Bed featuring DJ Pillow.
Pay attention when a door person reads club rules. Don’t be entitled — they do apply to you. Beery, who co-wrote the guidelines for Nowadays in Ridgewood, says that these are basically contracts stating, “I agree that my good time is just as important as everyone else’s.” Even if you think it’s stupid that phones aren’t allowed out, keep yours in your pocket.
Once you get inside the party
“Take ten minutes to settle in and see what’s going on around you,” Beery said. “How intensely are people dancing? How are they interacting with their friends? Is this a sexy crowd where people are grinding, or is this a dark techno tunnel where people are in their own little visions?” You don’t have to take part in whatever’s going on if it’s not your thing, but don’t blatantly dismiss or interrupt the mood, let alone try to steer it in a whole other direction.
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Be nice to security. They’re the reason the crowd is good.
Remember that your mood affects everyone else’s. Andrew Akanbi, the DJ and founder of the New York party series Groovy Groovy, said, “When you’re feeling shitty and you don’t want to be around people, don’t go to the club and rub your shittiness on others.” A caveat: “If you’re feeling shitty, but you still have respect [for others], the collective energy in the room will get rid of your shitty energy.”
Don’t be a tourist. If you’re going to a venue within an established scene (think: neighborhood block party — yes, good ones count as “the club”), or one with cultural significance that’s new to you (e.g., straight cis boyfriend at a Pride party): You’re a guest, so be extra respectful. Give people at the function you’re attending room to do their thing without interrupting or putting yourself at the center of the event.
Dance, make conversation at the bar, and circulate. It’s wack to just pose for pictures, farm clout, and not give anything to the room in return. “The ideal attendee has curiosity for music magic, and curiosity for energy that you haven’t felt before,” Akanbi said. “I need you to pull up curious.”
Don’t stare. Two exceptions: You’re eye-fucking someone who’s doing it back, or you’re communicating a brief, assertive, and polite “I’d love to be helped” glance to the bartender.
Some notes on DJs and dance floors
For the love of God: Shhh. “There’s been a lot of people complaining about people having full-on conversations on the dance floor, especially right in front of the DJ,” said Justin Strauss, who’s been DJ-ing in New York since the halcyon club days of the ’80s and partying in the city since he was a teenager. “It’s very distracting to the DJ, who’s concentrating on doing their job. Go into the other room; go outside; go somewhere else. If you’re on the dance floor, this is a dance floor.”
No requests. This isn’t the pregame where you can connect to the JBL speaker, and people didn’t pay a cover charge to hear whatever’s on your Spotify “S U M M E R V I B E S” playlist.
Just leave the DJ alone, no matter what. Eugene Varnedoe, a resident DJ at Mansions, said this applies even if you’re into what they’re playing. “People come up to me and tap me on the shoulder and start giving me a lecture about, ‘You know what this DJ was doing in the ’90s, right?’” He finds this obnoxious. “I don’t really care about that in the middle of the dance floor!” You can show your appreciation just by dancing.
Bodies aren’t bumper cars. One thing that Varnedoe wishes he heard more often: “Nobody fucking says ‘excuse me’ on the dance floor. I swear to God, no one’s ever heard of the words.”
When in doubt, be a mensch
Go on a side quest with somebody drunker than you are. Help them find their friends, keys, or bag.
Say hi and what’s up if someone looks a little lost. “If you see someone that is not in their best condition, reach out so they know you’re there if you need help,” said Akanbi, the Groovy Groovy founder. Do I need to say it?
Your friends? Your responsibility. If someone you came with is asked to leave because they’re trashed, go with them. “Take care of your friends, even if it is really annoying because it cuts your night short, or the fact that your friend having a bad trip is harshing your vibe,” Beery said. It’s the safe and right thing to do, plus, your night is over anyway: You’re already associated with “that person who got way too fucked up,” and people will notice if you just wave away somebody who needs help.
If you accidentally act like a boor, make it right. “You might be drunk and just run up to the front of the bar. Meanwhile, there’s a whole queue of people lining up — you need to say, ‘Oh, wait, people are actually in line? My bad, I’ll go to the back!’ It’s simple shit like that,” Akanbi said. “Nobody’s saying you have to be perfect in the club, but your social awareness has to be sharp.”
Be generous. Hand a wallet you come across in the bathroom to a bartender for safekeeping. Let people bum a cigarette, offer a bump if (hypothetically) you have one to spare, and pass a cup of water back to a stranger while you’re getting one.
Don’t be too cool. Strauss, the veteran New York DJ, says his favorite kind of person to see out is someone who’s genuinely happy to be there. “When I walked into [legendary New York nightclub] Paradise Garage, I was like, This is where I belong. This is the music I want to hear. These are the people that I want to be around.” As Strauss put it, the club can be a “lifeline” for you and everyone else in it. Treat it that way.
