What your first post-lockdown Edinburgh night out says about you
It’s time to separate the basic from the boujee
Unless you’ve been living under a literal rock, have given up hope or just stopped checking the news altogether (fair enough), then you might not know that after almost 18 months of closure, Monday 9th August was the day that clubs officially reopened in Scotland.
Nicola has finally caved and allowed us to truly live our hot girl summer lives.
Deciding where you want to down your first tequila shot, kiss a questionable-looking boy and help a girl get over her ex in the bathroom after 18 months of only being able to listen to new music through your Airpods is a momentous decision to make.
So, whether you’re opting for a night of cheesy hits at Gari’s, a return of passionate smoking area debates at Juju’s or a gruesome Hive ’til Five, here is what your first post-lockdown Edi night out says about your vibe:
The sole purpose of a night out for you is to pull a Napier boy and you have absolutely no shame in declaring this from the off. Lockdown has been a struggle and you’re sick and tired of having to venture on half-arsed tinder dates just to get laid. So, get ready to hear ‘feels weird being out of lockdown ahah’ and ‘what vaccine did you get?’ seductively whispered in your ear as you grab a drink at the bar.
Your night is split 50/50 between the dancefloor and the toilets. The girls you meet in there immediately become your confidants, therapists and support system all rolled into one and in that moment you’ll be damned if they add you on Instagram on the spot. You’re single and a little bitter so can’t help but take it upon yourself to passionately yell “LEAVE HIM!” if you overhear a girl crying over her boyfriend.
You might also be one of those people who unashamedly bags themselves a VIP table with their sports team and never shuts up about it. If this is you, please stop. It’s a VIP table for a club in New Town, not Ocean Beach Ibiza.
Let’s be honest, you’ve probably taken it a bit too far at pres and couldn’t actually get in anywhere else. You’re that person who can’t read the room, doesn’t understand when it’s time to go home and wants to drag a night out on for as long as physically possible. The sesh is life and the night out doesn’t stop until the club shuts (before hosting afters back at yours obviously).
You’re more than willing to overlook the VK-soaked floors, grim toilets and an overwhelming stench of sweat. All you want is to proudly achieve a post-lockdown Hive ’til Five and post a Snapchat story with the caption “made it”.
Terrifyingly, you may also be a fourth year, who, after your mental health has taken an absolute battering throughout the pandemic, is now considering Hive as a viable option for ‘old times sake’. Nostalgia and rose-tinted glasses are powerful things and this may indeed be the start of the next epidemic.
You’ve definitely spent the entire pandemic complaining that no other drink compares to a classic Gari’s special. You might have even tried to make your own during you and your flatmates’ many themed lockdown drinking nights but it just wasn’t the same (PS: try adding some melon liqueur to whatever juice and vodka concoction you’ve tried).
Musically, you’re stuck in the 80s, a sucker for some ABBA and a loyal listener of every cheesy hits playlist Spotify has ever made.
Here for a good time not a long time, you’ve had dreams about impressing your chirpse on that pole in the middle of the dance floor, getting a few cheeky instagrams in the bathrooms and dancing on the tables.
Saving money on a night out is also an essential for you, and the free weekday entry only makes it even more appealing.
Do people like this even exist? You’re either a first or second year who hasn’t done their research and genuinely has no idea where else to go. Or, rather worryingly, you’ve missed the ambiance of a student union club. Either way, your priorities are somewhat questionable.
If it’s the latter, then your friends would certainly describe you as ‘wholesome’ and a proud wearer of your Year 13 leavers hoodie to the lib on a Saturday morning. A night out is a rarity to you as your main priority is visiting your long-distance high-school SO and your greatest achievement is being the ‘mum’ of the group.
Also, let’s be honest, you’ve got to be balling to pay a shocking £5 entry to enter a uni-owned building that you’re already paying 9k a year for (especially in a pandemic).
You’re a bit boujee and thought you were a big deal in school before coming to a uni of forty thousand or so people and realising that you’re not quite the BNOC you initially hoped to be.
Fashion wise, for you nights out are no joke. Trainers, jeans and a nice top just doesn’t cut it these days. Instead, it’s all about the latest PLT dress and some cheap Primark heels that might completely destroy your feet but will feel good to strut down George Street in (compeed plasters are your best friend).
However, this overdressed look oozing class and decorum is merely an act that inevitably falls apart once it hits 1am. It’s unfortunately not an uncommon sight to see you being literally dragged up that treacherous staircase to get out of there.
There is only one word to describe you and that is basic. You are unashamedly like other girls. Trying to decide what to wear for the first night out is something that’s kept you up at night for weeks: are flares still in? is it too hot to wear my north face? How do I incorporate the y2k aesthetic into my outfit?
Venoms are all you drink and you’ve spent the last three months frequently residing in Subway’s haphazard outdoor garden, chatting up the bartenders and hoping that the day would soon come where you could proudly perform all the tik tok dances you’ve learnt on the dancefloor.
You’ll pre with a glass of prosecco or Echo Falls in hand, boomerang the night to your hearts content and request the DJ play girls just want to have fun.
You’re a bit indecisive and don’t really know what you want out of a night out (or life tbh). An Atik fan is a people pleaser who doesn’t quite want to commit to the RnB vibe of Bourbon but also literally fears the venom-filled energy of Subway on a Tuesday night so instead settles for a combination of the two.
Labelling yourself as ‘chilled’ and ‘laidback’, you’re actually just one of those annoying people who doesn’t have an opinion on anything and would rather satisfy the masses than actually declare what they want.
Either that, or you’re in one of those terrifyingly big uni friendship groups made up of literal polar opposites who want to split up in the club for a boogie before reconvening at the end of the night.
Atik is also the ideal place for all you drunk wonderers, with the two floors giving you plenty of opportunity to run off with the first guy to give you eye contact and leave your friends thinking you’re dead.
Juju’s is literally Toffee in real life. A low-ceiling sweaty room crammed full with Pollock private schoolers who Juul like it’s their part-time job and have no ambitions beyond living on Daddy’s trust fund. If this is your first port of call then the likelihood is you see clubbing as an opportunity to network in the hopes of widening your London circle.
If you’re someone who loves to visit Juju’s for the drama of it all then you’re a little attention seeking, were probably a theatre kid growing up and have missed the thrill that comes with telling an economics student that printing more money is the solution to all of our problems (these people are the backbone of society). Somehow debating with your flat mates over a drinking game just doesn’t have the same flair and you are ready to bask in the drama with a drink in hand.
Also, get ready to unironically hear “rah, where’s my baccy?” in the smoking area.
For techno lovers who considered attending illegal raves during the first lockdown, Cab Vol is the perfect place to go if you want to stand by a speaker all night and risk needing a hearing aid by 30.
You love a bright and bold shirt (preferably with flowers or palm trees on it), a bucket hat and questionable-looking sunglasses you bought on your post-A level sesh holiday. It’s also likely that you “feel anxious about taking the vaccine” despite happily inhaling every illegal substance known to man off of random club floors for years.
Social distancing has driven you literally insane and you want nothing more than to have someone completely invade your personal space and accidentally drop a drink down you. It’s no secret that the conditions in Sneaky Pete’s are cramped, but after a year of sanitising your entire body after simply pressing a stop button this couldn’t appeal more.
Those who proudly declare Sneaky Pete’s to be their favourite club always do so with an air of arrogance, speaking about it like it’s an undiscovered inner circle that only edgy and alternative members of society can be a part of. You’re therefore someone who prides themselves on being mysterious, doesn’t like to follow the crowd and is a ‘free spirit’.
In reality, however, your private snapchat story is a constant stream of vlogs and oversharing, you’ve learnt every Tik Tok dance under the sun and regularly experience severe hangxiety after drunk-texting your ex (it happens to the best of us).