A diminishing appetite for booze has ushered in a new, downsized, era for the cocktail.
It’s been reported for some time now that young people are drinking less. Our parent’s generation were privy to the 80s cocktail goldrush, whetted with Piña Coladas and Blue Lagoons. And millennials have held up national drinking standards having come of age in the alcopop era.
But for many people my age (I sit on the cusp of the gen z/millennial border) drinking has become démodé. Whether that’s down to a rise in wellness culture, growing use of GLP-1s or a general disdain for hangovers, my generation is increasingly seeking out new ways to unwind and socialise.
That doesn’t mean, however, that gen z have cut alcohol out of their lives entirely. In fact quite the opposite is true. Despite drinking them far less than their parents, young people are romanticizing the cocktail culture of yore. And this has ushered in a new, decidedly smaller, era for the boutique beverage.
From tiny martinis to dinky daiquiris, miniature cocktails have taken over bars and restaurants in the UK and US. The glamourisation of the dirty martini – a pungent and wincingly strong drink – is particularly surprising amongst a demographic who’s started to write off booze.
But if the aestheticisation of the drink is anything to go by, marked by its rise on artsy menus and inclusion in the concept of ‘girl dinner’ (a viral meme chronicling the go-to meal of the nonchalant young woman), martinis are evidence that gen z are latching on to the social signifiers of alcohol more than the alcohol itself.
The miniature drink provides a strong middle ground for this sober curious generation, providing all the clout of a sophisticated beverage without the sizable commitment. As Vogue reported last year, ‘diminutive drinks have, it seems, recently morphed from bartender’s handshake to menu staple.’
According to bar consultant Tyler Zielinski, a downsized drink means ‘every single sip will be ice cold’ (a must for a martini), and delivers ‘all the punch’ of liquor without fear of overdoing it.
Journalist Hannah Goldfield chronicled her own relationship with alcohol in The New Yorker, writing that, while she had all but sworn off drinking in her twenties, she was ‘susceptible to the romantic appeal of mid-century cocktail culture.’
Goldfield’s experience mirrors a phenomenon amongst gen z which Goldfield dubs ‘intentional drinking’. Young people are exploring sober lifestyles not necessarily because of an unhealthy relationship with alcohol, but as a means of discovering something about themselves.
Gone are the days when turning down a drink meant you were either a recovering alcoholic or pregnant. Now, drinking has become an art form in itself – an opportunity to try out elaborate drinks in low-lit bars, a more dignified (albeit still slightly buzzed) means of relaxing.
For previous generations, alcohol often functioned as a social obligation. But gen z are starting to approach drinking with the same curatorial mindset they bring to fashion, interiors and wellness.
Gen-Z is embracing a sober-curious lifestyle, even before Dry January began.
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