At this point, the term “third place” or “third space” should sound familiar to many. Sociologist Ray Oldenburg originally introduced the concept to describe social environments distinct from the “first place” (home—where you live and who you share it with) and the “second place” (work—though nowadays, many, including myself, work entirely from home, which I’ll delve into later).1 The “third place,” by contrast, is neither home nor work (or school, if you are a student); it’s an informal gathering space where people connect, build community, experience a sense of belonging, or simply relax and spend time alone outside their home environment. Historically, cafés, bars, parks, libraries, community centers, and even barber shops have served as quintessential third places.
Why Do Third Places Matter
I’ve been a restless kid for as long as I can remember. As a teenager, other than school and home, I was always at concert halls, dessert cafes, or chronically online chatting with people on the Chinese version of MySpace and Reddit. Although I wasn't necessarily meeting people spontaneously in the wild, these spaces provided a much-needed sense of relief from mundane everyday life and allowed me to build connections beyond my small circle of immediate family and classmates. It was from these experiences I developed my love for writing and art, which eventually led to my first paid gig - writing classical concert reviews for a local newspaper.
As an adult (and a decidedly introverted one), home is my “charging place”, it’s where I relax in my comfy clothes, put on noise-canceling headphones, and truly be myself. As much as I love spending time with myself, I also crave social connections just like anybody else. The Type 2/3 enneagram in me loves getting things done and bringing people together. In these days, where remote work has become the norm, the boundaries between the ‘First Place’ - home and ‘Second Place’ - work have grown increasingly blurry. We are essentially sleeping where we work and working where we eat. No more virtual happy hours or Zoom escape rooms, one thing that became abundantly clear is: that we need to venture outside and rediscover those vital "third places" that enrich our lives beyond the confines of home and work.
How Work Culture Dominates Third Spaces
Ironically, these days I also find it challenging to find good third places around me that are not dominated by the work culture. Go to any third-wave coffee shop in the city, almost 7 out of 10 people are hunched over their laptops performing some kind of work duties. Are we witnessing an active rebellion against the blurred boundaries between home and office? Or has our productivity-obsessed culture made it impossible for us to exist in public spaces without a deliberate, work-related purpose?
The coffee shops that once fostered spontaneous conversations and chance encounters have morphed into informal coworking spaces. Even if you are just looking to enjoy a cup of coffee by yourself or have a casual catchup with a friend, you are more than likely subject to questionably important work Zoom calls (“should I be hearing this?”)2 In an era where productivity is virtually a religion, the idea of simply being in a space - without agenda or purpose - feels almost transgressive. We've internalized the notion that every moment must be optimized, and every location utilized for maximum efficiency.
Earlier this year, I had the intention of laying off drinking for as much as I could, and finding places to hang out at night time that are not a libation institution became a challenge. After work, you're either at a bar or you're at home. While daytime offers coffee shops, libraries, and parks, these spaces typically shutter their doors by sunset. We've somehow collectively decided that adult socializing after dark must involve alcohol, leaving those who choose not to drink - whether temporarily or permanently - feeling oddly excluded from nightlife. The few alternatives that do exist - late-night diners, dessert cafes, or board game cafes - often feel like exceptions that are slowly dying.3 Even if you do drink and want to go for serendipitous encounters at a bar, chances are they are often occupied by first dates from dating apps, each table a carefully orchestrated meeting rather than a spontaneous connection. The open, anything-could-happen energy that once characterized bar culture has been replaced by a more purposeful, often closed-off atmosphere. Everyone seems to be expecting someone specific, with very little openness to engaging with strangers. The classic image of the neighborhood bar as a place for chance encounters and community building feels increasingly like a relic of the past. One place in San Francisco that left a lasting impression on me is The Center, which when I visited for the first time 6 years ago, pleasantly surprised me with the openness and friendliness of people looking to get to know one another and have genuine conversations. The last time I heard though, they started charging for a day pass to maintain the business. Can’t say I’m not a little bummed about it.
In my opinion, the best third-place should be free to enter, allowing for true spontaneity and inclusion. The moment we attach a price tag - whether through membership fees, minimum purchases, or day passes - or a defined purpose - to get work done or to date - we create barriers that fundamentally alter the nature of these spaces. Perhaps what we need most are spaces that encourage us to simply be - places where the purpose is optional and genuine connection is still possible. Yet finding and preserving such spaces, especially ones that remain free and accessible to all, becomes increasingly challenging in a world where every square foot must justify its economic existence.
Why Online Communities Aren’t the Solution
In my early teens, some of my most meaningful connections weren't forged in physical spaces at all, but in the digital realm of online forums and chat rooms. These virtual spaces served as my introduction to the concept of third places, though I didn't recognize them as such at the time. The digital landscape has evolved dramatically since those early days of internet communities. They now often require signing up, managing profiles, and engaging with ever-changing algorithms. The simplicity and spontaneity of those early days feel lost. In fact, I truly feel for the teenagers nowadays. Study4 shows that Gen Zs in America spend a quarter of their day consuming social media content and their mental health is negatively impacted. The rise of suburbs makes it hard for teenagers to get to such common places without a car and the third places are becoming way too expensive for the young people who need them.
There's something fundamentally different about digital interaction. Spending excessive time online reinforces isolation from our immediate physical communities. While virtual spaces can facilitate meaningful connections, they often lack the sensory richness of physical environments - the ambient sounds of a café, the shared experience of weather, and the subtle body language that forms such a crucial part of human communication. They can complement physical third places but perhaps not fully replace them.
What Makes a Good Third Place?
On my recent trip back home to Shanghai and Tokyo, I was pleased to see the shopping mall culture still alive and well. Not to promote consumerism but to highlight their role as communal hubs, you know, a place where you can just exist, surrounded by other people, without having to put on a social persona. No matter your age and social status, people are welcome to just “chill” and hang out at coffee shops for however long they want, coffee shops open late, and people are actually just “yapping” with no laptops or phones in sight (what a shocker!). It’s not that physical places like malls and coffee shops do not exist in America, but they lack additional values and social contexts that encourage people to go and stay.
Perhaps what we need isn't just more third places, but a collective permission to exist in them without purpose. The ability to sit in a cafe without a laptop, to occupy a park bench without checking emails, to engage in conversation without an ulterior motive - these shouldn't feel like radical acts. They should be recognized as essential components of a healthy society, as valuable as any productive work hour.
Accessible. People have to be able to get there, and it has to not feel like it’s out of your way to do so. Ideally walkable in the neighborhood.
Affordable. No entrance fee or expectation to pay a certain price to feel welcome.
Open past sunset. I mean, if people are going to hang out somewhere after work, it would have to stay open after working hours, no?
Spontaneous. Just a place you can pop in and out without having to bring anything or anyone with you.
Various seating options with comfy furniture. Seems trivial but if a place feels cold and concrete without comfortable seats, what’s the reason to stay?
There’s a trending slang on TikTok called “this and yap”, which kind of just means talking for a long time often about something unimportant or useless. Do you have a place you like to go to yap?
Let’s bring back bowling alleys <3
Carissa5
Oldenburg, “The Great Good Place ” (1989)
Middlebrow Podcast, “Little Dubai” (2024)
American Diners and the ‘Third Place’, https://www.roundabouttheatre.org/get-tickets/upstage-guides-current/the-counter/american-diners-and-the-third-place-2/
Talker Research, “Media Consumption Trend Report”, https://talkerresearch.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Talker-Research-Media-Consumption-Trend-Report.pdf
Some Reddit threads that inspired me to write this piece
“I always see Americans say "there's no third spaces anymore". What's up with that?” r/AskAnAmerican
“If you could create a third place, what would it be like?” r/sociology
Love this.
I also appreciated the citations which I checked out to dig a bit deeper