Emer McLysaght Author and journalist

In Nobody Needs This, a brand-new series for The Journal, Emer McLysaght focuses her eagle eye on the trends, products and notions we can do without. It’s not all giving out, however. She’ll also be keeping up with what’s catching her attention, keeping people interested and, quite frankly, driving her mad.

I’VE BEEN PONDERING for several days now, what is it about the concept of a “coffee rave” that’s sent me into such a snit?

I can’t even remember where it was suggested to me. Instagram, maybe? It certainly has the hum of an enthusiastic Insta post off it.

A coffee rave is exactly what it sounds like. A DJ playing club tunes in a coffee shop, often pre-midday, while patrons enthusiastically hold americanos or croissants or iPhones or indeed all three aloft. There have been many such events held around the country.

Rationally, I shouldn’t have a problem with it. People are enjoying themselves, they’re building community, they’re boosting endorphins, and they’re supporting a local business. Green ticks across the board.

But here I come, with my little red flag, riled up by the very idea of a coffee rave. Don’t get me wrong. I love a rave and have raved aplenty in the early-to-mid-morning hours over the years. I just don’t understand why the coffee people* have to muscle in and take something hedonistic at its core and try to sanitise it. We could argue semantics, and I might accept that “coffee rave” is just a cute name for a morning bop but on a larger scale there is an undercurrent of puritanical finger wagging and clean-living gentrification.

*I should sidebar here and admit that coffee people get my goat. No, not the ones who drink and enjoy coffee and just get on with it. The ones who make it their entire personality. The ones who look at you like you just said you wipe your arse with leaves if you don’t have an Aero Press or your own bean grinder in your kitchen. I don’t drink coffee at all, with the only exception being a double espresso at a wedding to counteract the bilious feeling brought on by the beef-or-salmon dinner and the dessert medley. I’m extra sensitive to a coffee bore. I like sparkling water, but I don’t wake gasping for my first glass of bubbles, refusing to engage with anyone or anything until I’ve imbibed it. So yeah, I have a lot of feelings about coffee people.

If I’m to really drill down into my feelings on all this, I can admit that ultimately, I think the coffee rave people are a bit smug. They’ve teamed up with the run clubbers, they’ve gone sober curious and they’re going to post about it on social media.

If a coffee rave falls in a forest and you don’t film it for social media, does it even play a Fred Again song?

I also suspect the coffee ravers may be trying to reclaim some of the debauchery of youth. They’re the early adopters of fancy coffee who grew out of having pints four nights a week and replaced the pints with americanos and cortados and, God forgive me, iced concoctions in the park with the Bugaboo and the cockapoo. 

Listen, I’m all about the sober life.

I’ve had periods – and we’re talking years – where I was consistently drinking to excess and, yes, once or twice found hugging the porcelain in the toilets of the Ambassador nightclub (RIP) just off the N7 in Kill. I feel very lucky that my use of alcohol, while certainly problematic like so many of us, never spiralled into anything beyond binge drinking.

I celebrate alcohol-free spaces and enjoy many social occasions without the booze. But where will wellness culture end? Even in the past few decades we’ve cycled through keto, paleo, gluten free, carb loading, protein maxxing, fat-is-bad-for-you-no-fat-is-good-for-you, sugar-is-poison, clean eating, clean lifting, juicing, pulping, burpee-ing. Nothing has been left untouched by the pristine fingers of the clean-living movement. 

A rave is a rave. Club culture and nightlife is already on its knees, and we all know that advancing puritanism has never led anywhere positive. Can’t the coffee people just have their coffee and let the ravers rave? Or I don’t know, join a Zumba class and be humbled by an octogenarian. No smartphones allowed. 

What I will get behind…

…nature tables, in real life and online

We’ll soon be at the end of cherry blossom season in Ireland. Fused by Fiona has a list of some of the best places around the country to enjoy the sight. My own personal favourite spot is Brickfield Park (go Bricker!) in Dublin 8. 

Cherry blossoms in Brickfield Park: 

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Related Reads

Somebody tell the parents that the kids don't need to be constantly celebrating something

…Reading with your ears

I’m relistening to one of my favourite audiobooks, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, about a poor Black woman from the state of Virginia whose cervical cancer cells became vital to the future of scientific research.

Meanwhile, Small Things Like These author Claire Keegan joined pop star and book fanatic Dua Lipa on her podcast to discuss Keegan’s novella So Late in the Day. 

Give a follow to…

Normally I’d never encourage an audience of adults to follow a 17-year-old but Carspotting Dublin is an immensely entertaining Instagram account run by a teenager from Rathfarnham. Check out this post about a 1999 Yaris and then lose another hour to scrolling the posts.

Reddit threads of the week 

In r/bridezillas a guest has a problem with a vegan bride. 

An r/ADHDIreland Redditor has created a really handy site for anyone pre, during, or post diagnosis.

Emer will be back next Friday morning with more recommendations.