If Social-Media Apps Were Parties…


Inspired by The New Yorker’s article of the same name, I give you a guide on how to deal with the parties we are obligated to attend… Twitter, Facebook, TikTok, Instagram and Livetree edition. 

So, you’ve just woken up on a Saturday morning after a long week’s work. You’re in the midst of your third lockdown during a global pandemic, and you’re tired of everything. You have already taken every walking route from your gaff, and you’ve already met each of your friends for a coffee break on a cold bench. You’re way of socialising-without-actually-socialising? The internet. 

You grab your phone and you start your morning stroll. No, not stroll, SCROLL (oh, how times have changed). Before you know it, you’ve been scrolling for a half hour… 

Much like parties we are obligated to attend, social media is the 21st century’s version of that annoying friend who doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. It demands our presence, and we’ve already used up all our excuses. 

So, we’re going to the party that never ends… what’s the dress code? Who’s there? What’s the ‘vibe’? 


Your uncle takes to the dance-floor for the third time, but this time he does his hip in. It’s almost as embarrassing as the time he took to the internet to lambast Black Lives Matter protests. ‘In my day…’, I think that’s how it started? So, this party is you and a bunch of boomers no doubt arguing about the prevalence of cancel culture and what the plus stands for in ‘LGBTQ+’. You leave by 11pm and you’re in bed by 11:30pm… sorry Facebook, you’re not worth sticking around for. 

Dress code: Anything that annoys your conservative auntie. A short skirt? Check. Low-cut top? Check. A sense of self-worth and confidence? Check. 


This is made up of your pseudo-intellectual friends from uni, only everyone’s uncomfortable because they all know they’ve over-shared on the internet. In contrast to the Facebook party, these individuals aren’t your family, in fact, they barely know you. Subsequently, you’re not all partying merrily together. You’re all sectioned off into various rooms of the house, entirely based off of which candidate you voted for in the last general election. All except for that one dude who ‘respects’ Jordan Peterson. You somehow spot him in every room, ‘playing devil’s advocate’ with anyone wearing a communist hat.  

Dress code: A Daunt Books tote bag that you can’t find at the end of the night, because guess what? There are over ten of them in a pile by the front door. 


An Instagram party is like a gallery exhibition which lures you in with free house wine. Anyone can walk in, but not everyone belongs. Underneath the smiles, toasts and feigned appreciation for bad abstract art, all attendees share the same knowledge. There is an after-party that not everyone will be invited to. Unlike the Twitter and Facebook soirees, at the Instagram party no one actually knows each other – but they act like they do. Just like you do with your Instagram app, you’ve got a 1 hour time limit on this bulls**t. 

Dress code: Casual elegance paired with a ridiculously small bag. 


The TikTok shindig is our annoying 10-year-old cousin’s birthday party. It’s 10am, and the bouncy castle has already been deflated by a group of kids who wear TikTok hoodies like armour. The parents don’t tell them off because they know these kids have the type of confidence that could make a grown man cry. On the internet since they were 2, these kids don’t cry anymore, they just blow all your cousin’s birthday candles out for clout, and worst of all, no one bats an eyelid. Least of all, your cousin, who actually filmed the whole thing.

Dress code: NEUTRALS. You’re more mature than these juveniles and they can’t hurt you… 


Shameless self-plug, we know. But if you don’t back yourself, who will?

The Livetree party is the best party. In fact, it’s closer to a festival. You float from stage to stage, having new realisations and meeting new friends. Unlike the rest of the parties you’ve attended, the Livetree party lasts all day and all night – and, you don’t feel the hangover the next day. There is no hedonism involved, because the fun is sustainable and it can last forever if you want it to. There is no planet B, but with Livetree, we only need planet earth. 

Dress code: Your choice, baby. 


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