How lowering your standards can boost your social life and mental health

In Australia, it’s a similar story. A survey by the website Finder found Aussies are reducing the size of their friendship groups and attending fewer events to cope with the cost of living. Then there’s the housing crisis. I have the privilege of being able to throw a party because we live in a large house. But a British survey by the home interiors specialist Hilarys found one in four people are embarrassed to invite others over because of “home shame”, from houses they think are too small or messy.

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There’s also the COVID effect. During lockdown, we stopped strengthening our social muscle. As a result, we’ve forgotten the gains of hosting and can only remember the pain points.

So how can we ease our fear of gathering, and not just accept that it’s closing time on our social life? Julie Tenner is an intimacy and relationship coach, and a reformed party fearer. For her 40th birthday, she threw herself a party – the first she’d ever hosted for herself. “It was right at the end of COVID [restrictions lifting], so initially nobody wanted to come,” she says. “I was full of anxiety, but then I thought, ‘What does it matter? I’ll just open my house and fill it with my favourite things.’”

Her all-day event included flower crown-making in the garden, a gin station and a fairy-floss machine. Her guest list was lengthy. “I just invited whoever,” she says with a laugh. In the end, people came – and they didn’t leave. “I was looking around thinking, ‘What is happening here?’” she recalls. “It felt like people remembered how much they love hanging out with humans.”

Her hosting didn’t stop there. In 2022, she threw a “non-politically-correct hysterectomy party” to “celebrate, honour and process” her surgery – complete with themed games and activities. “It was super fun and crude, and a little wild,” she says. “But there was a huge amount of intention behind it all; it involved all the aspects of fear and shame I wanted to process.”

As a therapist, she believes parties are an important modern-day ritual – and it’s not only about big milestones. “I host games nights and weaving circles, and, recently, a celebration for a friend who is five years post-cancer,” she says. “It’s about food, connection and community. That’s the interesting thing about opening your house – you have to be ready to receive love.”

To embrace parties in a post-COVID, shaky economy, we need to lower our standards and tear up the rule book of old-school social etiquette.

AMY MALLOY

For many women – myself included – having children offers permission to party. As a mum of three, I am still uncomfortable celebrating myself, but my kids’ parties are elaborate, 10-hour affairs. I don’t worry about people showing up, and I don’t feel guilty about the money because we’re making core memories.

To be able to celebrate my kids, I’ve had to heal my own “hosting wound” – the emotional pain of my past-party memories. The childhood party that felt awkward and lonely. The parties in my twenties where I felt like I lost control or let myself down. To be able to celebrate our life now, I had to revisit my morning-after shame – and forgive it. The biggest lesson I’ve learnt is to lean into imperfection.

When our house flooded two weeks before my daughter’s fifth birthday, I wanted to cancel her party, but my husband wouldn’t let me. Instead, he decorated the construction site – and it was our best party yet.

There is a reason that millions of people tune into comedian Hamish Blake’s “cake night” on social media, watching him stay up all night making a cake for his son’s or daughter’s birthday. It’s always elaborate, but also messy and imperfect. One year, the family cat was seen eating part of the cake. Who wouldn’t want an invite?

To embrace parties in a post-COVID, shaky economy, we need to lower our standards and tear up the rule book of old-school social etiquette. Don’t have enough cutlery? Tell your guests to bring their own. Feeling tired? Go to bed early and let the party continue without you – even as the hostess.

Most of all, make it comfy. The most common reason Aussies cancel on a social event is “to relax on the couch”, according to research by McCrindle. This is followed by “to sleep”, so don’t force people to stay past midnight.

There’s a reason “holistic event planner” is now a real job title – because people want events that feel good, as well as look good. Less pretension, more cosy cushions, warm lighting and clear boundaries.

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As a mum of four, Tenner has hope for the next generation – and their social lives. “Our children are creating social environments that allow for different needs, especially [for peers] with neurodivergence,” she says. “When you and I were young, that didn’t exist; at a party you had to be involved, and you couldn’t leave, and you just had to brace yourself. Our kids don’t do that any more, and I think it’s amazing.”

When her teenage daughter has friends over, every two hours they have an hour of “solo time”: noise-cancelling headphones on, doing their own activity, away from each other. It’s a time for recharging without the need for guilt or apology.

“I love hearing my kids talk to their friends about their ‘social batteries’,” says Tenner. “Whether it’s needing to be home by 9pm because they’ve had a big week or not doing sleepovers because they like their own bed, they’re upfront about it.”

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