Working Hard, Partying Sober

It’s what you’d expect from the university named Playboy’s top party school in 2014. A makeshift rig of colored lights. Sugary sweet, barely–tastes–like–alcohol jungle juice pouring from a Gatorade cooler. A song blaring from buzzy speakers with the bass cranked all the way up (probably “No Hands” by Waka Flocka Flame, “Mr. Brightside,” or that remix of “Heads Will Roll”). A booze–fueled, nearly wasted mass of bodies, jumping in unison, letting go of their inhibitions to the tune of a Friday night frat party.

Jake Federman (C ‘25) is right there in the mix, but he hasn’t had a thing to drink.

“I personally don’t need to have alcohol in me in order to have fun—partying alone is enough,” says Jake. Though he knew drinking was a large part of fraternity culture, it was never something that appealed to him. He joined his frat to make friends and meet people from backgrounds other than his, even if he knew that’d come with a heavy culture of drinking. He’s never had a drip of alcohol, and he never intends to.

With the rise of trends like sober TikTok, mocktail bars, and dry raves, it’s clear young people are steering away from the idealization of alcohol. It feels increasingly common to come across students who’ve made a conscious decision not to drink, smoke, or do drugs. Even for adults in their 30s and beyond, more casual embraces of sobriety are becoming commonplace, to the point that one could even call it “fashionable” to be sober.

Still, being sober in college, particularly as someone that regularly goes to parties, comes with challenges.

At Penn, partying feels so intertwined with drinking and doing drugs that they’re often inseparable from one another. It begs the question: What’s the point of going out if you’re not getting a little tipsy? But plenty of Penn’s sober brothers and sisters are out there in the thick of it—they’re proof that it doesn’t take intoxication to be social at the “social Ivy.”

Jake fits the picture of your average frat guy. He’s tall, laid–back, athletic—a New York transplant who fits naturally into the social culture of Penn. So when he walked into parties at New Student Orientation (NSO) last August, refusing every beer and red Solo cup offered to him by upperclassmen, people were taken aback. “But I never felt pressured to drink,” says Jake.

Coming into Penn, Jake knew he’d be surrounded by alcohol, but his friends and even random partygoers were understanding of his choice to be sober. “If you make it through NSO, that’s the hardest part,” he says.

By September, Jake felt that he’d mastered the art of partying sans booze—and he loved it. So much so that he started “dirty rushing” frats to fully integrate into the Penn Greek life scene.

Even though he hit it off with most of the brothers he met, almost no frats gave Jake a bid—even one whose living room he cleaned the morning after a party. “At a certain point I think they just dropped me because I wasn’t drinking with everyone else,” he says.

Only one frat invited Jake to pledge, and they were accommodating of his sobriety throughout the process. When they gave him his bid, he was greeted by one of the brothers at his door in the Quad. “He was like, ‘We usually greet new brothers with a beer, but since you don’t drink, I brought you this,’” says Jake, and then the brother handed him a can of Coke.

“It made me feel welcome for who I was,” he adds.

Like Jake, Lauren Schneider (C ‘22) rarely felt out of place in her social circles, although that might’ve been because “most of the time people would forget—even people I was friends with for four years would forget—that I didn’t drink.”

It’s an easy mistake to make. During her first year, Lauren had a more packed social calendar than most of her drinking

peers. “Freshman year, [I went out] as often as I could. That was my priority,” she explains. “I’d probably go out, like, three, four times a week. There were times when I’d be like, ‘Kweder on Tuesday, Sink or Swim Wednesday, sorority stuff Thursday, Friday, Saturday.’” And she’s never been drunk or buzzed—although she’s had a drink and done a round of green tea shots with friends before.

Then again, not drinking or smoking probably helped Lauren, a Sigma Delta Tau (SDT) sister, from getting totally burnt out. She could go to bed at 2 a.m. and wake up at 9 a.m., tired but hangover–free. And when out with her friends, “I could go longer than any of them. When I was on the dance floor, I was out,” she says.

For Lauren, being sober wasn’t a weighty choice—neither of her parents drank, she never went out in high school, and she just doesn’t see the appeal of losing control of her mental or physical faculties. None of this detracted from Lauren’s boundless energy: “I just love to dance and talk to people!”

But not everybody is like Jake and Lauren, especially when it comes to how immersed they are in their respective scenes. “I don’t think I met more than one other person that went out like I did and was sober,” Lauren says. Jake feels the same way, that he “might be the only sober attendee at a party. And that’s awkward, but it’s still fun.”

Of course, there’s a reason most people drink at parties. “Frat parties aren’t all that fun if you’re sober,” says Cheryl Chang (C ‘24). When Cheryl first came to Penn, she had every intention of diving into things headfirst. She’d always romanticized the college parties she’d seen on TV, so it made sense to join a sorority—Zeta Tau Alpha—and drink casually with friends, even if pandemic restrictions meant she wasn’t going to frat parties her first year. But one bad experience led her to swear off alcohol entirely.

“My vomit was pink. Neon, bright–ass pink,” says Cheryl. It started as a night binge drinking with her then–sorority sisters. What could go wrong with letting loose a little? A few too many shots and snacking on Flamin’ Hot Cheetos was a recipe for severe nausea that ended in a Barbie–colored hue. And ever since, Cheryl has lost her taste for alcohol.

The following fall, Cheryl went to frat parties with her friends but didn’t drink, and soon found that they didn’t quite live up to the hype.

“It was just a lot of sweaty bodies touching yours in a crowded room,” she says. While the people around her could get into the music and feel relaxed after a few drinks, Cheryl, completely sober, couldn’t stop thinking about the strangers’ sweat staining her top or people stepping on her toes. By the end of her sophomore fall, Cheryl had sworn off of Penn parties and dropped out of her sorority, now opting for nights in with a smaller group of friends.

“If you gave me a plethora of options to do for fun, going to a frat party would not be at the top of my list,” says Anthony Hu (C ‘24). As someone who chooses not to drink, the sticky, structurally questionable basements of frat houses aren’t where he wants to spend his weekends.

Anthony initially opted into the time–honored rituals of one’s first year at college: roving around in packs from frat party to frat party, meeting fellow first years who’d forget his face in the morning, and going to parties along the Schuylkill where “there wasn’t much alcohol, but people were acting drunk anyway.” But Anthony also “took a lot of passes.” When he found that bailing on going out wasn’t hurting his social life, it took away the pressure to party when it wasn’t on his own terms.

Though he still hangs out with people who drink socially, Anthony gravitates more toward close–knit house gatherings. “At a house party, you basically know everyone, or if you don’t know everyone, you know someone who knows someone,” says Anthony. It’s more casual, there are more familiar faces, and there’s more control.

And sometimes, it does get out of control. “There’s no boundaries,” says Adrian Altieri (C ‘23). Though he’s tried alcohol, he doesn’t like it, doesn’t feel that he needs it to have fun, and has chosen to stay sober. Meanwhile, his roommates drink on weeknights like it’s a part of their daily routine. “It’s a way to uncouple themselves from Penn, which academically is so competitive, and almost cutthroat,” he says.

While he understands the urge to step away from Penn’s stressful environment, Adrian has seen some of the closest people in his life become nearly dependent on getting drunk or high to relax. “It seems a little excessive,” he says.

Lots of Penn students will admit themselves that drinking heavily on weekends is a

Jesse Zhang

coping mechanism used to decompress from a rough week. “In the Penn community, it’s very easy for those types of anxieties to be amplified,” says Jessica Corrar, director of operations at the the Philadelphia Collegiate Recovery Haven, or PCR Haven. Just a few blocks from Penn’s campus, Corrar runs the residential sober living program with Gemma Lund Mears to offer support for young adults in the Philadelphia area, including their fair share of Penn students, who want to get sober.

Lund Mears, who’s been sober since she was 18 years old, notes the cultural tendency to use any and every occasion as an opportunity to drink beyond what would be considered normal or healthy. “[Drinking] is what we do at weddings, at funerals, at sports games—at every darn thing we pop open a beverage of some kind,” she says, and college parties are one of the best excuses to bring out the booze.

As the “sober brother,” Jake often finds himself intervening at his frat’s parties. According to University policy, social events held by student groups that serve alcohol are required to register ahead of time and have designated sober attendees that can serve as first responders if something goes wrong. Although other members of his frat rotate the responsibility, Jake’s sobriety means that he often takes on a de facto caregiver role.

“I honestly do feel responsible to make sure that no one does anything so beyond stupid that someone gets hurt,” says Jake. Usually, there aren’t many instances where he has to intervene, but there are always two or three other designated sober brothers at the party helping to de–escalate when things get out of hand. Occasionally, they’ll cut someone off if they’ve become too “messed up” and encourage them to drink water.

But that responsibility can also grow into a burden. “It was honestly a lot of parenting,” says Cheryl. When she used to go to parties as the sober friend, it was a constant worry of making sure everyone was okay and got home safe.

“My friends didn’t bring me there to be the parent,” says Cheryl, “but that’s obviously just kind of the role of the sober friend.”

Alcohol isn’t the only substance at play— harder drugs are also a fixture at Penn parties. As a result, the choice to be sober at

Penn depends as much on financial considerations as it does on personal choice.

Adrian lives in a house with members of the sailing team, so he’s observed the feedback loop between money and illicit substances firsthand. Some students who come from wealthier backgrounds were already exposed to hard drugs in high school, and the more disposable income you have in college, the more you can spend on those same drugs.

And yes, when talking about hard drugs at Penn, that usually means cocaine.

“Growing up, you’re like, ‘Oh my god, that’s so scandalous.’ And then you get there, and it’s like: coke pregames! And I’m like, ‘Whoa,’” says Lauren, “it’s crazy how much money is going toward that kind of stuff.”

Everything from replacement Puff Bars, to Adderall for last–minute cramming, to bar–hopping on a Friday night, is another expense for an already cash–strapped student.

“If you’re someone who has to balance academics with work and other shit on your plate, you might not actually have the time to go partying and drinking with friends and then recover from the hangover,” says Cheryl, “because that shit takes time.” It’s time—and for that matter, money—that some students don’t have to throw around.

Not to mention, the sense of obligation to go out every weekend, pack your schedule, and spend your money eventually fades for sober students, just like it does for most people at Penn.

Even Lauren—the girl with the five–night–a–week social calendar—found that

How to finally use your Trader Joe’s basil plant: Plum Basil Spritz • ½ plum, chopped and pit removed • 5 basil leaves • 0.5 oz. simple syrup • Seltzer water

Before midterms season hits and you accidentally kill your basil plant by forgetting to water it, try your hand at making an herbal mocktail. Begin by muddling the plum, basil, and simple syrup in a tall glass. Top with seltzer water, then strain into a different glass and garnish with a few more basil leaves. Alcoholic option: Add 1.5 oz. gin. For the (sober) bougie bitch: Virgin Mojito • A sprig of mint • 0.5 oz. simple syrup • 1 oz. lime juice • Sparkling water

As the throes of seasonal depression start to set in but you don’t want to drink your problems away, make this summery mocktail as a (less effective, but much healthier) alternative to blacking out. Muddle the mint, simple syrup, and lime juice in a glass, then strain into another and top with sparkling water. You can also add a handful of fresh fruit before the muddling—blackberries are my personal favorite—for the only drink that’ll rival your SSRIs. Alcoholic option: Add 1.5 oz. white rum

frat parties were starting to lose their luster once she became an upperclassman. “As you get older, everyone gets younger,” she laments.

Since she wasn’t seeing her friends on the dance floor anymore, Lauren started going to Smokes’ more often; it was the best way to run into people without having to make plans. As she distanced herself from nights spent in frat basements, Lauren started forming other habits in place of partying. Senior year, she went to Pottruck every day, plus SoulCycle in Center City once a week. She spent more time with her friends in off–campus apartments. She “started to value other things.”

At the same time, the interactions Lauren had grown accustomed to at frat parties—with their familiar drunken cadence—began to feel more and more superficial. She says, “I was tired of people maybe not remembering me, or I didn’t know if they remembered me, or I felt like I was building some sort of relationship with somebody and they didn’t even know.”

It’s not like Lauren has undergone a radical personality shift; she still loves to dance and talk to people. “Being around that energy” is the reason she joined SDT in the first place. It’s just that, like drinking or doing drugs, party culture can be something that you grow out of, rather than something you do or don’t.

“M ore and more, there’s this normalization of being a sober young person,

Most pitcher–friendly: Virgin Paloma • 2 oz. red grapefruit juice • 0.5 oz. lime juice • 0.5 oz. simple syrup • Club soda

This is probably the easiest mocktail on this list, which makes it perfect for throwing together last minute when you finally wrangle your sober bestie into going out. Combine the lime juice, simple syrup, and grapefruit juice in a glass, add ice and club soda, and serve with a garnish of mint leaves or lime slices. Alcoholic option: Add 1.5 oz. tequila.

Best to drink through a swirly straw: Spicy Mango Lemonade Slushie • 2 oz. mango lemonade ice cubes • 3 oz. mango lemonade (liquid) • ¼ cup frozen mango chunks • Cayenne pepper, to taste

Start by giving the ice cubes a good 3 hours to freeze properly (or longer if you got your mini fridge from Facebook Marketplace). Then, combine all the ingredients in a blender and hope your RA doesn’t care that you violated the Student Compact by owning one. Alcoholic option: Replace 1.5 oz. of the mango lemonade with vodka. Mocktails on hard mode: The Rose Fizz • 1 egg white • 0.5 oz. lemon juice • 0.5 oz. simple syrup • ¼ teaspoon rosewater • Sparkling water

Maybe you dream of becoming a bartender someday; maybe you’re a masochist who ran out of other way to torture yourself. Either way, this mocktail will test your mixology skills, requiring you to dry shake an egg white with lemon juice, rosewater, and simple syrup to create a foamy texture. Pour it into a fancy coupe glass of your choosing, and top with sparkling water. Alcoholic option: Add 1.5 oz. gin.

that it’s not crazy, and that it doesn’t mean you have to go hang out in church basements for the rest of your life and never have fun,” says PCR Haven’s Lund Mears. Many colleges and universities, including Penn, are starting to pick up on this sentiment: an increased demand for organized social spaces that aren’t centered around drinking.

In a statement to Street, Executive Director of Strategic Initiatives Mark Elias detailed an upcoming partnership between Wellness at Penn and University Life that’ll focus on hosting “substance–free, late–night programming” on campus this fall. This dovetails with the launch of the new SUPER (Substance Use, Prevention, Education, and Recovery) program, a wellness initiative focusing on students who are actively in recovery or trying to get sober.

Corrar thinks this is a marked improvement over traditional zero–tolerance policies for alcohol in colleges. “If a student is reaching out and saying, ‘Hey, I might have an issue,’ or, ‘I need help,’ that could mean they’re risking their college career,” she says. “Sometimes that can be a real deterrent, because there isn’t a clear place to go that doesn’t feel like it’s going to be punitive.”

It remains to be seen whether the SUPER program and other new initiatives will offer a viable alternative to Penn’s alcohol–centric party culture. Regardless, they represent a step toward a more sober–inclusive social scene for students who want it.

That said, Jake is certainly proof that sober students can still thrive in a traditional party environment, choosing frat basement over church basement without sacrificing his sobriety. Still, he struggles to understand the reliance on alcohol that feels so prevalent among his peers.

“It’s strange to me that people feel the need to drink in order to have fun,” says Jake. He gets drunk on the party, the people, the energy of coming together at the end of the week in the collective catharsis of the dance floor.

“Jumping up and down, seeing my friends, seeing people I met all around campus in different spots—it’s really fun, despite not having any substances in me,” says Jake. And when the night’s over, without the looming threat of a hangover, he’ll be ready to do it all over again at the next party. ❋ Clockwise from top left: Photos courtesy of Cheryl Chang, Jake Federman, Lauren Schneider, and Anthony Hu

To many, college life at Penn is synonymous with a particular kind of partying. Fraternities and sororities often rent out nightclubs for events, and many Thursday nights bear witness to a parade of mini dresses exiting Uber XLs onto the sticky sidewalk in front of whatever venue is hosting the hottest ticket of the night. Filled with top–rated DJs and bottom–shelf liquor, these parties bring in hordes of Penn students every weekend. To get cheaper tickets and ensure a (hopefully) quick and easy interaction with the bouncer, many partygoers turn to club promoters.

Promoters are employed by organizations that host parties—whether that’s an event–planning company or a nightclub itself. They’re tasked with marketing events and boosting attendance. For Gen Z–ers in college, the marketing often takes the form of Instagram Stories designed to induce a glaring sense of FOMO. Who doesn’t want to have fun and look good while doing it?

The job description isn’t set in stone; there are many types of promoters. According to self–described “top club promoter” C. “Nez” Byrd, there are three types. Up first, street promoters. Often integral parts of the New York club scene, street promoters interrupt passersby to bring them into the party. Then there are head promoters: Well–established, well–connected, and well–paid, they manage other promoters and are in charge of VIP guests. This brings us to the third type: image promoters. They hit social media hard and bring in the target audience—often pretty girls with money to spend.

Last fall, Emma Shockley (C ‘25) started working as an image promoter for Philly Welcome Week, a branch of the event–organizing company Welcome Week USA, which throws parties across the country during the first week of the fall semester. After seeing advertisements for Philadelphia’s Welcome Week before she started her first year at Penn, Emma sent an Instagram message to the company. She inquired about promoting, and after allowing them to review her social media, she was in.

Emma praises the flexibility of the job, saying, “All work is done on my own timeline.

There [are] no specific shifts or days that I am working. It’s definitely a ‘you get out what you put in’ situation.” In the same way that WilCaf baristas enjoy the social nature of their employment, Emma loves that she gets to party with new and old friends every time she clocks in a few hours of work. “It is an extrovert’s playground, no doubt!” she says.

Like any good Penn student, Emma adapts the wording of her promoting expertise to something she can put on her LinkedIn. Discussing the skills she’s developed in the field, Emma says, “Being exposed to so many people from all over teaches you how to be adaptable and interact with people in different ways that are tailored to where you are, what you’re doing, and what you know about them.”

When Philly Welcome Week is hosting an event, they turn to their list of promoters.

Emma gets sent the who/what/when/where of the event as well as personal promo codes that she gives to friends. Once she’s canvassed her inner circle, she turns to the over 4,400 users that follow her on Instagram. She links a website where interested followers can swipe up on a Story and purchase tickets. Each promoter gets a slightly differ-

ent URL to post—and the promo codes can offer up to 40% off the sticker price of some events. That’s before you bribe the bouncer, of course. Promoters are paid on commission: The more people they attract to an event, the more they get paid.

Though promoters like Emma work hard to get people out to their parties, sometimes competing events prove to be a letdown for everyone involved. After weeks of sprinkling mentions into conversation and mixing her regularly scheduled Story posts with brightly colored advertisements promising a fun night, the calendar finally flips and the promised date arrives. Emma gets ready, calls her Uber, and arrives at the party, gaggle of friends in tow, only to be met with a booming bass and a pitiful crowd. When multiple parties are scheduled for the same night, overlapping invite lists compete for the “Oh, you should have been there!” crown bestowed upon the most (or least, depending on your tolerance) memorable night.

Already breeding grounds for morally ambiguous decisions, nightclubs don’t seem to care that many of the micro–influencers promoting their events are below the drinking age. Instagram pages meant to connect incoming class members with each other before school starts are populated with almost daily Story posts advertising “the party of the year.” Given the stereotypical eagerness of Penn’s first years, it’s no wonder the Class of 2026 seems ready to celebrate at this year’s New Student Orientation. And if they’re savvy enough, a few of them might even get in good with Emma herself. ❋

Going to college in Philly, we’re so often bombarded—on social media and IRL—with seemingly endless options for how to spend our free time. So I’m delighted to announce that Street has done the hard part for you: We’ve rounded up what we think are the can’t–miss events for the month (and you can expect more of these in the months to come) in one convenient place. If I’ve done my job right, there’ll be something in here for every one of our readers, no matter what you like to do with your weekends.

Walden Green

Saturdays in September: Big Wig Brunch @ Punch Line Philly

Big Wig Brunch has the perfect theme for every friend you could possibly drag along with you: Beyoncé for your hottest, Golden Girls for your oldest, Britney for the one who’s fully embraced the Y2K revival (or her hoe phase), and Broadway for the one who just won’t shut up about her improv troupe. Remember, always tip your local queens! 21+, $40, 10:30 a.m., Punch Line Philly, 33 E. Laurel St.

————————————————————————————— Sept. 2 + 16: Emo Night @ Kung Fu Necktie

Has it all been downhill since Warped Tour? Was dyeing your hair back to its natural color a personal low? Then get ready to regress to your peak–Tumblr self at Kung Fu Necktie’s Emo Night. Expect lots of bands that aren’t as good as Paramore (looking at you, Panic! at the Disco), and also lots of Paramore. 21+, $6, 10 p.m., Kung Fu Necktie — KFN, 1250 N. Front St.

————————————————————————————— Sept. 3 + 4: Made in America

Y’all know this one—break out those cute tops in red, white, and blue, and get ready to brave the elements and guys with crypto wallets just like we do every year. The difference this time is the kickass lineup. Obviously, there’s no going wrong with Tyler, the Creator and Bad Bunny, but the choices don’t miss all the way down to the bottom of the billing. Tickets from $99, Benjamin Franklin Parkway. ————————————————————————————— Sept. 4: “Bday” A Beyoncé Experience @ W.O.W. Philly

If you’re anything like me, literally the only thing you’ve wanted to do since RENAISSANCE dropped is go out and get absolutely turnt to that record. Like, just that album. In order. No skips. And this is kind of like that. Leave Taylor Swift night to the sad girls; this is for the bad girls. $20, 8 p.m., Warehouse on Watts, 923 N. Watts St. ————————————————————————————— Sept. 10 + 11: Punk Rock Flea Market @ 23rd Street Armory

The Punk Rock Flea Market is hosted by The Captain’s Vintage, which is a very un–punk rock store because they sell T–shirts for hundreds of dollars. But you can make the flea market punk again—just make sure you find the coolest cheap stuff in the worst condition possible. Bring your dog! Apparently they’re allowed, which is wild. $10 (or $5 starting Sunday at 1 p.m.), 10 a.m.–5 p.m., 23rd Street Armory, 22 S. 23rd St. ————————————————————————————— Sept. 11: Honey Festival @ Bartram’s Garden

I have a confession to make: Of all my expensive food vices, there’s nothing more likely to get me breaking out upwards of $20 than a jar of fancy local honey. For the sake of my wallet, I might have to pass on a trip to the Philly Honey Festival, but you can still go and hang out with some adorable Apoidea. Free, 10 a.m.–3 p.m., Bartram’s Garden, 5400 Lindbergh Blvd. ————————————————————————————— Sept. 12–24: Center City District Restaurant Week

‘Tis the season to schedule all of your club BYOs and work through the broke–with–expensive–taste urge to eat out six nights a week (you cook once to feel good about yourself). The whole list of participating restaurants is online, and it’s a lot to sort through, so make sure you plan which places you want to hit while they’re still in your budget … relatively speaking. ————————————————————————————— Sept. 15: Baltimore Avenue Dollar Stroll

You thought Locust Walk was bad for your social anxiety? Try adding cars to the mix, plus intersections where there are upwards of six directions for the last person you wanted to see to sneak up on you. At least you’ll be fucked up enough on dollar green tea shots that you’ll have no problem confronting your enemies in public. 5:30 p.m., Baltimore Avenue between 42nd and 51st streets.

————————————————————————————— Sept. 16–18: XPoNential Music @ Camden, N.J.

Full disclosure, I have no clue who Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats are, and I do not care to learn. But The War on Drugs, Bartees Strange, Jenny Lewis, Tamino, Valerie June— sign me all the way up. Also, it’s Camden, aka you can rest easy about running into other Penn kids. One–day passes from $30, weekend passes from $220, Camden Waterfront. ————————————————————————————— Sept. 19: First Eagles Home Game of the Season

So maybe a major sporting event isn’t the most