To students of an American party school, shirtless frat men carrying around bags of ice in broad daylight isn’t an unfamiliar sight – it likely just means that a “darty”, shorthand for day party, is nearby. Last month, however, a viral TikTok showing just that made over 500,000 viewers stop mid-scroll. That’s because the University of Alabama students pictured were not filling beer kegs, but cold plunges. The 11-second clip, which also showed students jump-squatting and side-lunging on a grassy lawn, was promoting a Sweat and Soak “wellness darty”. According to the organisation’s founder Martin Mocs, the itinerary of these events goes something like this: three rounds of a HIIT workout for the guys and a yoga session for the girls, followed by a sauna and cold plunge, and, for those who need it, an IV hydration drip. All the while, music thumps in the background. “I tell people, picture the gym, but picture it outside with a DJ – like social hour,” he says.
The University of Alabama is hardly the only school where functions like these are taking place – UCLA, Arizona State and the University of Miami have also seen similar events on their campus. Though the students pictured couldn’t seem happier to plunge and plank, videos of these parties have garnered strong reactions online, especially from millennials quick to contrast the events to their own boozy college days. “I would have drank a fifth of vodka before this in 2006,” read one comment left on a wellness darty TikTok. “We used to be a proper society,” read another. The images of college students wellness-ing en masse have felt like somewhat of a reputational nail in the coffin for Gen-Z, a generation already presumed to party less and “protect their peace” more. But is the quest for a healthier version of college life really such a bad thing?
To young people like Mocs, it’s all about balance. The 24-year-old started Sweat and Soak after a hockey trip to Finland, where he and his teammates were first introduced to saunas and cold plunges. When he returned home, he decided to host a “wellness Coachella” at his school to raise money for a local woman unable to pay her medical bills from breast cancer treatment; the cause was important to him after his own mother passed away from the same disease. Since that first event, the parties have taken off and expanded to other campuses, although Mocs said it was the videos going viral that helped get the organisation sponsors. “Gen Z wants a place where we can have fun, but also be healthy and make good decisions,” says the founder, who also notes that, despite the misconception, the wellness darty-goers still go out and party as usual. “[People] look at this as we’re a softer generation, but I think we just care about bettering ourselves and focusing on our mental and physical health – and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Aydan Child, founder of Peak Pulse, has similarly tapped into his college town’s wellness market. Child’s organisation, whose wellness darties also went viral online last month, began as a run club that the 25-year-old started after wanting a post-grad social outlet that didn’t involve going out. Once he introduced a cold plunge and other offerings to the club, Peak Pulse continued to grow in Gainesville and college towns beyond, with the first ticketed event hosting 400 people. Though Child doesn’t drink, he says he’s in the minority, and that most attendees still do, but appreciate having another space to socialise. “People are realising you can have genuine fun and meet new friends through these outlets rather than only being able to meet friends, boyfriends, or partners out at the bar,” says Child. “It’s just an alternate setting where you’re able to make new connections and have a good time without having to drink.”
Though wellness darties represent the most communal version of young people’s wellness leanings, college students are incorporating wellness trends and habits into their individual routines, too. Alyssa Gottesman, a sophomore at the University of Florida, is one of those students; her morning routine includes a yogalates class and long walks fueled by podcasts like The Mel Robbins Show, Call Her Daddy and Huberman Lab. “There’s a big surge in wellness culture,” says Gottesman of her campus. “Everyone’s always in a workout set. Everyone’s always on a walk.”
So, what does it look like to keep up with your wellness routine and studies? For Cole Sanford, a sophomore at the University of Michigan, it involves waking up at 5:30am, taking a lineup of supplements, drinking a cup of bone broth, and going to the gym – all before his chemistry lecture. Like Gottesman, Sanford attributes his generation’s wellness habits to social media, where, on platforms like TikTok, health-oriented trends have proliferated in recent years. “I think the reason why Gen Z might face criticism is that those other generations weren’t exposed to what we’re exposed to today,” says Sanford. “We’ve been exposed to so many different forms of wellness and [once you see] what you’re actually capable of after that, it’s hard to stop.”
It’s no secret that not every health fad your algorithm pushes is actually helpful, though. The wellness industry, projected to reach $9.8 trillion by 2029, thrives on making people feel like there’s always something about themselves that can be improved, and the relentless pursuit can be an isolating experience. But wellness culture has become so popular among young people that some schools have academics like Scarlett Rupert, a professor of wellness at Elon University, to help students sift through what’s real and what’s fake. “I definitely talk about this a lot in my classes,” says Rupert. “[We use] peer-reviewed research to see if things are actually good for you – as in, what is the science saying, not just what is this influencer saying.”
Social media could also be playing a role in young people’s hesitation to party as freely as generations before them, something that’s seeped into broader party culture, not just colleges. “We view partying very differently because we know it can be recorded and put online,” says 26-year-old Salimata Sanfo. Sanfo, who came online to defend the wellness dartiers, points out that in addition to the surveillance culture, the COVID-19 pandemic is another factor contributing to young people’s differences in socialising. “Our foundational years were formed during a major public health crisis,” says Sanfo. “Of course we’re going to have a bit more of a focus when it comes to health and wellness.”