Which afters are you? The six types of afters
Afters is the party after the party: the bit that happens when the club shuts, somebody says "my place", and eleven people follow them into a taxi.
Based on extensive scientific research (aka late night chats), we think there are six kinds. New to the word itself? Start with what afters actually means, or read where to find afters in London.
The
Whose-House-Is-This™
Aftrs
Nobody has met the host. Everyone is having the time of their life.
Someone said there was a thing on, and now there are nineteen people in a flat that comfortably holds six. The host may be asleep. The host may be a rumour. There is one bottle of something warm going round and a playlist that keeps getting hijacked, and by 5am you have made three friends whose names you will never learn.
The
Dance & Smash
Aftrs
Dancing in the living room. Something else in the bedroom. Both, ideally.
The furniture went against the wall at 3am and has not come back. Someone has taken over the speaker with genuine skill. People peel off in twos, reappear grinning, and rejoin the dancefloor like nothing happened. Nobody is judging anybody, which is exactly why it works.
The
Puppy Pile
Aftrs
Fully clothed cuddling. Human beanbag. Zero agenda.
Everyone ends up on the same sofa, which becomes the same floor, which becomes one large affectionate organism. The music is quiet. Someone is stroking someone's hair. There is a blanket situation. It is the most emotionally healthy thing that will happen to any of you all week.
Drag Race
Home Edition
Aftrs
Wigs, choreo, a lip-sync for absolutely no prize.
Somebody found a wig. Somebody else found a better wig. Within twenty minutes there is a running order, a hairbrush microphone and a friend on the sofa doing critique in a Michelle Visage voice. Two people are still in full looks at 6am and neither will be first to take it off.
The
Mattress Megachurch
Aftrs
Mattresses on the floor. Very little conversation.
The lights went from low to lower to off. Somebody dragged the spare mattress in around four. Consent is loud and the small talk is not. It is less a party than a mutual understanding with a soundtrack, and it will be talked about, discreetly, for months.
The
Sociology Conference
Aftrs
Fully clothed. Fully debating society. Herbal tea.
Four people around a kitchen table solving gentrification, gender, and whether the club has changed since 2019. Someone is making tea nobody asked for. Someone is crying about a good thing. You will leave at 8am with a new theory of your own life and a slightly cold cup of peppermint.
Whichever one you are, the hard part is finding it
Every one of these happens somewhere within a mile of you, most weekends, and you miss most of them. aftrs shows which friends are still out, who's up for more, and where they actually are. Only your friends, only when you choose to be seen, invisible the rest of the time.
