You may not have been at one since you were 16 but house parties are back in fashion.With a night on the town no longer a cheap or cheerful experience, it's hardly surprising that people are choosing to make theirown fun. Ed Power looks at the growing trend.
Going cold turkey on nightclubs has had a profound impact on Sarah Mullins's social life. It has improved beyond recognition.
The last time she hit the tiles, a drunk threw up on her and a man with tattooed knuckles tried to beat up her boyfriend as he queued at the bar. Arriving home in tears, her best dress reeking of kebabs and alco-pop, Sarah, a 27-year-old financial services worker, decided she no longer had room in her life for that dubious brand of revelry particular to the Irish weekend.
When she parties nowadays, it is on her own terms. Sarah has unearthed a new Saturday night hang-out; a place where it's okay to wear grubby sneakers, her favorite music enjoys constant rotation, and she is unlikely to be mugged while waiting to use the loo. She has joined the growing ranks of those choosing to party at home. It is a constituency whose population has swelled as more and more people turn their backs on the pub/club scene, dissuaded by high prices and an upsurge in late-night street violence.
"I got sick of feeling that I was being ripped off and of worrying whether I was going to get hassled on my way to the taxi rank," says Sarah. "I had just bought my own home and thought 'why am I wasting so much money when I always end up having such a dreadful time when I can stay in and entertain myself?"
Saturday evenings used to be a "mad dash to beat the clock". Linger too long over dinner and Sarah risked missing the bus to the city centre. Arrive a few minutes late at the pub and she might not find a seat - or worse still could be forced to queue outside. Hosting a low-key house party is a doddle by comparison.
"I don't really think of myself as the sort of person who throws a party. It's really informal - just a bunch of us who want to hang out together but really can't face hitting town and putting up with all the hassles that come with that. It's informal and chilled out - just the way I want to spend my weekends. And if it doesn't work out - so what? My bed is only seconds away."
John Murphy, a 31-year-old computer programmer who became fed up at being refused entry to city centre pubs whenever his choice of footwear was deemed unacceptable by doormen, hosts parties in his suburban apartment every month. The guest list is exclusive - acquaintances sharing his taste in schlock-horror DVDs and Playstation football games. Best of all, he can indulge his passion for obscure music.
"I've always dreamed of being a DJ but I never had the time to develop my interest and nightclubs never seemed to play the kind of stuff that my friends or I enjoyed. It's either chart nonsense or really specialist stuff that you need a degree in cultural studies to recognise. Now I get to live out my sad DJ fantasies every weekend - we can play whatever we like and nobody gives us a hard time."
The trend hasn't gone unnoticed. With a downturn in clubbing leading to the closure of a number of venues (U2's the Kitchen being the most prominent casualty), DJs have come to regard house parties as a lucrative alternative.
While occasionally lacking in glamour, parties provide a steady income - provided you can stomach the punters.
"There's definitely a lot of money to be made from playing parties. People have cash and while they don't necessarily want to spend it on going to a club, they don't have a problem with hiring someone to come around and provide the music," says DJ Brian Lynch. "It makes sense for them - it's cheaper than going out and buying a stack of CDs and it's one less thing to worry about. The problem is that as a DJ you are more exposed to the audience. You can't hide in a booth - your anonymity is gone. If people don't like what you are playing, they walk right up and tell you.
"It can get a little hairy towards the end of the night when a lot of people are quite drunk and they start demanding that you play Oasis or the Ketchup Song or whatever. The people who are throwing the party might not see it that way, I suppose."
Not everyone can afford to hire a DJ of course. Those in search of a cheaper alternative have fuelled a boom in "mix" albums - a collection of tracks strung together to create a seamless blend of music. Some DJs have tapped into the craze by recording their own mix CDs and distributing them to friends.
"I put together a set of funk tunes for a friend's party and it had a huge impact," says DJ Diarmuid Looney. "People started making copies and passing it around, it really got my name out there. Because it was mostly obscure material that is difficult to get your hands on, people associated it very closely with me."
The off-licence trade has also benefited handsomely. Amid a sustained cooling in drinks sales, demand for specialist lagers continue to rise sharply; a reflection, according to O'Brien's off licenses, of a shift away from the pub towards home socialising. Kieran Curtin, director of Brewcrew, the beer delivery company, is even more convinced.
"The increase in the cost of home ownership or a quality rental property means people are encouraged to make more of their living area. This can be seen in respect of the popularity of PlayStation, delivered pizza, and home furnishings and entertainment systems," he says.
"When delivering kegs and equipment, it never ceases to amaze me how similar most of the homes are - big television, couch, playstation, wooden flooring. The cost of going out in town makes little sense against one's mortgage and rental exposure.
Also, young people within the 16-40 age group are quite house-proud, and enjoy entertaining in the hardest won status symbol - their home."
Some names have been changed
