Invite Me to a Matcha Rave

Will the wellness fad reach St Andrews?

It is 9am on a Saturday: Techno music is blasting, people are dancing, and the ceremonial grade matcha is flowing.

Those acquainted with rave culture are likely to agree, I would think, with the fact that it is far more preferable to watch the sun come up as one leaves a rave as opposed to when one arrives. I would also imagine that the same lovers of EDM and the ‘90s would find the absence of mind-altering substances at such an event to be completely unthinkable. 

I experienced similar incredulity upon discovering the growing popularity of the ‘matcha rave.’ Be it conscious consumerism, sober curiosity, or an irrepressible craving for hedonism (that refuses to be supplanted by even the most wellness-obsessed individuals) that drives one to tear up a caffeine-fueled dancefloor, the rise of the matcha rave calls into question the continued place of many tenants of social life for twenty-somethings: alcohol, drugs, and sleep deprivation, to name just a few. And, perhaps more importantly, when will Spoiled Life be hosting one of these events?

A search query of “matcha rave” on TikTok will expose the phenomenon’s indelible mark on the millennial and Gen Z social scenes of many affluent metropolitan areas, apparently circumnavigating the globe from Sydney to Dubai to London. It doesn’t take long to realise that (as I had incorrectly expected) this is decidedly not ladies-who-brunch. Indeed, the illustrious matcha rave is, at first glance, somewhat indistinguishable from the rave rave, featuring strobe lights, smoke machines, and a throng of dancing bodies. The only real difference is that it is 11am, and everyone is sober, if you can believe it.

Regardless of whether or not raving — matcha-fueled or MDMA-fueled — is your thing, the matcha rave exemplifies the increased, apparently wellness-driven societal awareness of the detriments of traditional party culture and thus a movement to both question and redefine what it means to party in one’s twenties. In this post-COVID world we inhabit, people, especially young people, seem to be more conscious of the potentially disastrous effects of the binge-drinking and drug-taking that is so often taken to be inextricable from clubbing. Not only that, but even in major cities, it has become increasingly less common to find clubs open past 3 am, where partygoers previously took these wee hours of the morning for granted, in that surely there was some dive bar still open. 

But, even in a world (or, at least, certain social circles) where Strava is the preferred form of social media and step counts and sleep scores are worn around like medals, EDM is not dead. Nay, it continues to thrive, but potentially with better sleep and fewer hangovers. Still, many would argue that the dreaded hungover Sunday is the price one simply must pay for the indubitable social benefits of a few (or many) drops of liquid confidence. 

While the town of St Andrews may not exactly be renowned for its party scene, it does feature some deliciously overpriced matcha lattes. Which brings me back to my previous question: When is Spoiled Life hosting a matcha rave, and where is my VIP invite? In all seriousness, St Andrews and its distinguished crown jewel of yuppie-driven gentrification seems an apt venue to test-drive the appeal of the sober soirée, perhaps as an afterparty for one of the Instagram photo-op run clubs it hosts. 

Party culture is changing. Will the bubble of St Andrews change with it and embrace the calls for reform spearheaded by Pilates goers and practitioners of the TikTok ‘clean girl’ aesthetic, or will it stay in the dark ages of the brain cell-devouring, devil-worship-inspiring substance commonly referred to as alcohol? In any case, if you ever see someone doing lines of a mysterious, powdery green substance, be sure to feel at least a little bit ashamed of your clearly inferior partying habits.

Photo from Haberdoedas Photography