I Just Want to Find New Fresh Fun

Algorithms pushing more of the same events are preventing us from having new experiences.

Humans are creatures of habit, so it isn’t the most bizarre occurrence if you regularly go to the same spots on the same nights of the week; you’re bound to run into the same people (if you aren’t already out with them at this point). 

In Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, a sense of belonging and community is in the third tier, just above basic survival needs and employment. We yearn for a sense of familiarity and belonging, but when does familiarity sour into stagnation? In the context of nightlife, are we finding comfort in the same spaces, or are we all just too socially anxious to seek the unknown at this point? 

Is there more to our social calendars than the same pre-bar-club-after schedule we partake in every weekend? It seems like every event being advertised is capitalizing on some TikTok trend or our nostalgia for bygone eras—and to quote Wallace Shawn in the Kit Kittredge American Girl Movie, “I want something new! I want something fresh! I want something real!”  

In a city with a thriving nightclub and bar culture, there has been a slow but steady rise in events and spaces that cater to the crowd of cannabis consumers living in the GTA. As someone who has worked in many a dispensary, I have been privy to these events for a few years now, but they have been strictly for the ‘industry professionals’ and have not been friendly towards general consumers. 

As an event-goer and cannabis consumer, I find this confusing. Weed has been legal in Toronto for seven years—and yet there still isn’t a widely known organizer for smoking-friendly events or accessible indoor consumption spaces. 

However, the ladies at High Matinence Events are trying to change that by bringing a level of community and education to sitting around and getting high. “There are so many beautiful benefits to cannabis, and it’s been an honor to share that wisdom with our attendees,” shared Paris Salmon-Wright, one-half of the duo behind High Maintenance. 

“When I attended cannabis events, I wanted to connect with the community, learn about new products, and network. But after going to so many events, I started noticing the energy just wasn’t there. I knew we needed to create a space that fostered real connections while providing education on what people were consuming,” adds Salmon-Wright. 

She and her best friend Keats Jabri-Pickett took their experience and product knowledge from the retail industry and applied it to a business where they organize consumption-friendly events for all levels of interest and experience. “Our events don’t just showcase products; they teach people how to engage with them in a way that’s approachable and memorable,” says Jabri-Pickett. “Our biggest realization has been that people crave connection and experience over just information… education happens most effectively when people are immersed in an experience they genuinely enjoy.” The two friends want to provide an environment where people can have fun, do an activity, get high off of products that enhance their overall experience, learn about why that happens, and feel safe while doing so—which is unlike anything that has been done in the city of Toronto.

Salmon-Wright and Jabri-Pickett definitely got off to a stressful start.  “During our first 4/20 event, Eventbrite shut down our page the night before, which caused absolute chaos. Since they’re anti-cannabis, advertising our events has been a challenge,” recounts Salmon-Wright. But she has come to know what to expect when putting together one of their events, “Keats told me last year during one of my panic moments, ‘Our worst-case scenario is that we cancel an event.’ That shifted my perspective. Even if something goes wrong, it’s not the end of the world.” 

They have several events under their belts now and more on the horizon, but Salmon-Wright says the greatest motivator is the feedback they have gotten from their attendees: “We’ve received so many positive comments from people who genuinely loved our events. It reassures  me that we’re doing something meaningful in this industry—and that feels good.” 

Salmon-Wright believes there is a market for more intimate events in every space as well, “It doesn’t always have to be a cannabis event. Recently, my boyfriend took me to a music event called Sofar, which was held in a cozy space with couches and floor seating. It was the kind of place where it was normal to slightly brush against your neighbor without anyone pulling away awkwardly,” she reminisces. “After the performances, we got to chat with the musicians, praise their artistry, and just talk about everything and nothing. It was perfect—exactly the kind of vibe I’d love to bring to High Maintenance.” As someone who has attended a High Matinence event, I can say they have succeeded in their pursuit to make approachable, inclusive, and overwhelmingly enjoyable events that everyone should check out. 

Last summer, one of my friends invited me to a Charli XCX Brat-themed dance party. I had never been to one of these types of events, but I had seen a couple of ads for similar-themed dance parties or club nights. I went, danced till my feet hurt, got a themed cocktail, saw a drag performance, was steered away from getting a tattoo at the pop-up booth, and went home. It was very on-theme for Brat Summer, but since then, I have been incessantly berated by ads for a slew of other themed dance parties. We all know our phones are listening to us, but are our algorithms so curated that they are now controlling where we spend our time and money? 

If you go on Eventbrite to see what events are in your area, your first recommendations are generally going to be in the same vein of or at the same venue as the last event you purchased tickets to. This algorithmic cycle is where this sense of cultural burnout seems to be coming from. Just as an example, there are two Beyoncé-themed dance parties at bars that are 20 minutes apart being hosted two weeks apart from each other.

Now if you were to attend both of those events, do you think you would see the same people at both nights? Probably? Maybe? I would say there is a good chance. This is great if someone has work one weekend and really wants to dance to Beyoncé; they have another chance on a different weekend, but what void in the culture are you filling by having a Beyoncé dance party, especially if someone else is also doing it? 

The majority of the dance parties being advertised are capitalizing on nostalgia, a great replacement for drunk concerts in your bedroom mirror to the songs you used to love in high school. There is even a venue in Parkdale called Ground Control that hosts a ton of 80s and 90s video dance parties for all the old heads who still want to dance and the folks who were “born in the wrong generation.”

In an article about the marketing of Wicked (2024) published by the New York Times in December, Natasha Degen writes, “Designed to anticipate what we want, these algorithms favor content with a proven history—the safe and familiar over the experimental and untested. New content is composed of existing elements, like mash-ups. This preference has only amplified the incentives leading culture away from the lone visionary and toward joint authorship for decades.” 

Even though this article was written about marketing campaigns, this sentiment resonates with the cultural shift we’ve been experiencing, where everything feels like it’s been done before. This is why the idea of these dance parties leaves the same taste in my mouth as live-action Disney remakes or a movie version of a musical. It’s a guaranteed hit, taking the music that Gen Z was never old enough to experience on a night out and putting it in a club setting. No one really asked for it, but we’re not entirely mad about it, and it will probably be a good enough time. 

Despite my cynicism, this is not necessarily a bad thing. I just went to a Lana Del Rey-themed dance party that I saw an ad for on Instagram. I’ll show up at that one bar my friends go to every weekend. I love a dose of nostalgia and familiarity every once in a while, but it seems to be becoming harder to find original experiences. This winter has had us all wrapped up in that weighted blanket of nostalgia, but I hope we can collectively defrost and indulge in some new, fresh, and real experiences this spring.