The rave is dead. And I was there to watch it die.
Ikea, the king of flat-pack furniture and umlaut-forward modern design, delivered the death blow Saturday afternoon at Saluhall, the 8-month-old food court adjacent to the build-it-yourself giant’s location on Market Street.
The word “rave” has been shedding its connotations of drug-fueled underground chaos for a while now. The Bay Area has seen ultraluxe wine country raves, Taylor Swift raves, and kid-friendly raves. Once upon a time, a rave was a warehouse party for people who doubted they’d live past 30. Now there are “raves” for people who want to learn about the latest science to help them live forever — in Marin.
Even still, I had some hope for decadence amid the modular shelving when I saw the Eventbrite advertising an “Ikea Rave.” Maybe it would be a gloriously goofy afternoon break from holiday shopping? I bought a ticket, imagining people dancing with gleeful abandon in faux fur hoods and galaxy-print leggings amid the affordable home furnishings, acutely aware of their own silliness. Of course there would be lingonberries.
I definitely should not have bought a ticket in advance, as I could count the number of attendees on one hand. I rolled up at 3 p.m., the halfway point. Nobody scanned my QR code. It was the same day as SantaCon, one of society’s more wretched pretexts for day-drinking. But at Saluhall, all I found were normies (and a few Santas) enjoying hot dogs, while a handful of people danced next to a DJ playing French duo Modjo’s eternal bop “Lady (Hear Me Tonight).”
The vibe was more meatball cafeteria than rave.
Those who were here to dance were mostly pregaming before SantaCon. A Santa named Samy from the Richmond lowered his beard to a drink frozen vodka-and-strawberry concoction, accompanied by three Mrs. Clauses holding cocktails of their own. “We saw the rave, we were out there for SantaCon, so we were like, ‘We’re coming in!’” he said. They were undeterred by the meh turnout. “If the party doesn’t get started,” Samy said, “I will start the party.”
On the off chance that the party’s center of gravity was actually in the retail section of Ikea proper, I wandered over to see. Instead, I found a working Santa on his 12th holiday season playing the role. I accepted two candy canes just as a man who identified himself as Ikea’s risk manager asked why I was interviewing St. Nick with a photographer in tow. “We’re here for the rave and just wandered over,” I said.
“What rave?” the manager asked.
My Christmas cheer evaporating, I decided it was time for Swedish meatballs and an Irish goodbye. I left Saluhall and almost collided with yet another Santa Claus, this time on a unicycle. I’m guessing he was on the hunt for an afterparty at downtown San Francisco’s other hot rave destination, Ross Dress for Less.
