The Anti-Social Economy

By Jessica Howard

In the early 2010s, nightclubbing was the pinnacle of the average 20-year-old’s social life. What better way was there to get your dancing fix, meet new people, and squeeze in a few drinks with the girls than throwing on a fun outfit and heading down to Chapel Street? There wasn’t one.

Going out, hitting the town, or throwing a few moves on the dance floor was once a weekly ritual for many people in their 20s.

Fast-forward to today, and the picture looks very different. Nightclub attendance is declining, the price of a vodka raspberry has skyrocketed, and many 20-year-olds seem more likely to host a cheeseboard night than to find themselves within a five-kilometre radius of Richmond after 9pm on a Saturday.

Why have more than 100 Melbourne nightclubs shut in the past decade?

This is what I call the anti-social economy.

At first glance, it is easy to blame nightclub attrition on shifts in consumer preferences. But beyond that, there is also a quiet evolution in consumer spending which is taking place before our very eyes. Take Hawthorn, for example, where the busiest night of the week is Tuesday. The Hawker’s Tight-Ass Tuesdays and their $6 drinks are not just a source of cheap thrills, but a way for young people to socialize without putting pressure on their hip-pockets.

Young people are not socialising less; they are simply choosing to do it differently.

The cost of being social

One phrase constantly permeating headlines at the moment is cost-of-living crisis. But what does this actually mean? The simplest way to think about it is that the money we earn today does not buy as much as it used to. In other words, inflation is outpacing wage growth.

The iffy calculus of balancing mortgages with grocery bills is a sobering reality for the average 40-something. But these worries, once largely beyond the consideration of 20-year-olds, have crept into our habits, beliefs, and ideals about how we spend our hard-earned money.

So the question becomes: how much are you willing to pay to socialise?

It should be free, right? Yet when a night out cuts into savings or delays financial goals such as moving out, buying a pair of nice shoes, or — dare I say it — filling up the tank with fuel, choosing to socialise via a night-out starts to look much pricier. Spending $100 each weekend on dinner and a few drinks is no longer harmless indulgence; it is an expensive trade-off.

For Gen Z, the price of socialising is higher than it was for the millennials before them. Why go to an expensive bar or club when you could grab a cheap bottle of wine, some brie, and watch the newest season of Bridgerton from your favourite spot on the couch?

The numbers are backing this up

According to ABS figures, CPI has risen roughly 30 to 35 per cent since 2015, while wage growth for younger Australians is up by about 25 per cent. In other words, although nominal wages have grown, real wages — those adjusted for inflation — have shrunk! This kind of wage behaviour forces the average 20-something to re-evaluate what they consider essential.

If a night in offers similar social satisfaction to a night out on the town, the choice becomes obvious. In game-theory terms, the financial accessibility of a night in means I am consistently incentivised to deviate from a night out.

Club culture is being reshaped

The biggest loser in this shift is the nightclub industry, whose target audience consists largely of these very wine-and-cheese-loving 20-year-olds.

So, does this mean club culture is doomed? Not necessarily, but it is being reshaped.

The downfall of nightclubs is not just about rising prices. It also reflects a deeper cultural shift in how young people value their time, money, and social experiences. Nights out are no longer the rule; they are the exception. In their place, we are seeing a rise in cheaper and often more intimate forms of connection.

The anti-social economy does not mean people are becoming less social. It means they are becoming more selective. Unless nightclubs adapt to this evolving economy — perhaps through stronger product differentiation and better value for money — they risk becoming relics of an older clubbing lifestyle, one in which the price of a night out did not feel quite so consequential.