“No, I’m never going home, not sleeping, not eating, just doing it over and over, keep going”: Charli XCX’s summer song “365” blares from my AirPods in the brief breaks between drinks, dates, nights on the town and birthday parties. I move sluggishly through three-day hangovers and self-imposed sleep deprivation. But I persist; the show must go on.
At the end of every summer, I’m completely worn out. All that’s left in the tank are leftover lager, half-eaten Morley’s Chicken Burgers and the three to four hours of sleep I give my body after a long, hard day of partying. My gums are bleeding from all the nicotine I’ve inhaled, my feet are covered in blisters from sweating in my heels, my legs are covered in bruises of unknown origin and my bank account… I just can’t bear to think about it.
Every year I make the same mistake. Every year I succumb to summer and take over the time for parties, drinks, “casual” meetings that last until 3am – and whatever else is on the London events calendar.
The summer of 2024 was made particularly challenging by the advent of “Brat Summer” – an evolution of the mindless “Hot Girl Summer” (which primarily promoted the pursuit of happiness) of 2019 and the less mainstream (but still wild) “Rat Summer” of 2022.
Inspired by Charli XCX’s slime-green treatise on modern femininity, “Brat Summer” is “dirty, hedonistic, happy and braless.” Charli pays tribute to the messy, uninhibited party girl with lyrics like “should we do a little key, should we have a little line?” (“365”) and “You wanna guess the color of my underwear” (“Guess”). It’s all reminiscent of the “It Girl” culture of the 1990s and early 2000s – think Paris Hilton and paparazzi photos of Lindsay Lohan. It’s messy and feminine, but without the aggressive diet culture and rampant misogyny.
At first, I was thrilled that the “clean girl” was being replaced with a messier stereotype. “Brat” is a pagan whose goal has nothing to do with self-improvement and everything to do with having as much fun as possible. Brat doesn’t “detox” with hot yoga – she sweats out her problems at the club. The only breathing exercise Brat does involves inhaling and exhaling cigarette smoke. And that’s a goal I’ve grown to support.
That was until I got a Brat burnout. I was exhausted from the revolving door of work, pub, football, girls-only sex parties, work, pub – and so on. As I cycle through these events one after the other, with a lit cigarette in my mouth and mascara running down my face, my last reserves of energy and sanity are depleted. Brat summer is too much.
Now that fall is approaching – and my 25th birthday is fast approaching – I’m somewhat relieved that summer is almost over. The “365 party girls” lifestyle is not sustainable. Especially for those of us who work 224 days a year. Nobody writes songs about “141 party girls.” And why should they?
Both the brat and clean-girl archetypes are extremes; both are unattainable and unsustainable for the average person. Total isolation “to focus on yourself” is bad for the soul and Sephora skincare products are bad for the bank balance. Likewise, total, limitless immersion in the world will drain the soul and partying is terrible for the bank balance (especially at £7 a pint).
I can’t drink regularly without beer anxiety overcoming me. Days will come and go without regular meals to interrupt the passage of time. My chest will tighten and my brain will roll out endless to-do lists ranging from washing up to working out to my neglected family responsibilities to what I want to be when I grow up and what on earth am I doing to get there? After all, sniffing poppers has never landed anyone a publishing deal.
In short, Brat Summer is inherently unproductive. It’s hard to come to terms with self-indulgence as a lifestyle when we’re expected to crave self-improvement above all else. Progress, progress, progress. Everywhere I look, people are throwing themselves into careers or relationships or meticulous self-improvement programs. Anything to avoid the threat of stagnation or, worse, regression. But Brat Summer is just that: living in the moment, seizing the day (and night). I think we deserve a little break from the pressures of modern life every now and then. Still, I’m going to try not to push it quite so far next summer. I really want to write that book!
