Somewhere between 2019 and now, the price of a cocktail became a moral question.
Twenty dollars for a margarita. Eighteen for a beer and a shot. Thirty-five if you’re feeling adventurous and order something with mezcal and a torched rosemary sprig.
So adults — the same people who swore they’d never relive their college years — are doing exactly that: drinking at home before going out. Pregaming. The Wall Street Journal noticed. Bars noticed. Your credit card statement definitely noticed.
This isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about survival.
The Economics of One Drink
Here’s the setup: you’re meeting friends at 7 p.m. You know the bar charges $18 for a vodka soda. You also know you have a bottle of Tito’s at home that cost $22 and contains roughly 17 drinks.
The math isn’t subtle.
One drink at the bar: $18.
One drink at home: $1.29.
So you pour yourself two before you leave — not to get hammered, just to avoid spending $36 before the appetizers arrive. You show up buzzed enough to nurse one overpriced cocktail all night and still participate in the social contract. JUST DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE.
This is pregaming in 2025. Not reckless. Strategic.
When Nostalgia Meets Economic Necessity
The weird part? People are talking about it like it’s a lifestyle choice.
“We’re bringing back the pregame!” says someone who definitely has a 401(k) and a mortgage.
But strip away the ironic framing, and what’s left is this: inflation hit bars the same way it hit groceries, gas, and rent. Except bars passed 100% of the cost to customers, and then added 20% for “atmosphere”.
A $12 cocktail in 2019 is now $20. A $6 beer is $10. And the same bartender who used to get a friendly nod now expects 25% on a card reader that starts the tip suggestion at 30%.
So people adapted. They started drinking at home first — not because they wanted to relive their 20s, but because spending $80 on four drinks felt insane.
The Identity Crisis of the $20 Cocktail
Here’s where it gets uncomfortable.
Going out used to signal something. You had disposable income. You valued experiences. You weren’t the person who stayed home counting pennies.
Now? Going out signals you either didn’t notice the prices or you’re pretending not to care.
And pregaming — the thing you used to do because you were broke and 22 — has become the thing you do because you’re 45 and paying attention.
The cultural script flipped. Suddenly, the “responsible” move is the one that looks like immaturity.
What Bars Are Pretending Not to Notice
Bars see it. They know.
Customers show up later. They order fewer drinks. They nurse a single cocktail for 90 minutes while occupying a table that used to turn twice in an evening.
Revenue per customer is down. Turnover is slower. But instead of addressing the price problem, bars double down: smaller pours, higher minimums, “curated experiences” that justify the markup.
The message is clear: if you can’t afford it, we don’t want you here.
So people stop coming. Or they come half-drunk and spend half as much. Either way, the bar loses.
The Long Game Nobody’s Talking About
This isn’t sustainable.
Bars need volume. They need people who order three drinks, not one. They need customers who feel like spending money is part of the fun, not a punishment.
But when a night out costs $150 per person before dinner, the calculus changes. People start making choices: go out twice a month instead of once a week. Pregame to cut costs. Skip bars entirely and host at home.
And once that behavior sets in? It doesn’t reverse just because prices stabilize. Habits stick.
The Uncomfortable Truth
Pregaming came back because the alternative became untenable.
Not because people wanted to relive their youth. Not because drinking at home is suddenly cool. Because paying $20 for a cocktail — and then tipping $5 on top — started to feel like a scam.
So they adapted. They poured two drinks at home, showed up buzzed, and ordered one overpriced beer to maintain appearances.
The bars kept raising prices. The customers kept pregaming. And somewhere in the middle, the social contract around going out quietly collapsed.
Nobody’s saying it out loud yet. But the behavior tells the story.
Source: The Wall Street Journal