HOW THIRD PLACES ARE EVOLVING BEYOND BRICK AND MORTAR
If your home is your first place and your workplace is your second, then where, exactly, is your third? This framework—rooted in the work of sociologist Ray Oldenburg in The Great Good Place (1989)—describes the spaces where individuals choose to spend their time and build community. While the first and second place are anchored in the private and professional realms, the “third place” is where people interact, unwind, and exchange ideas. However, as digital consumerism intensifies, many beloved third spaces face obsolescence, disrupted by shifts in consumer behavior and socio-economic factors.
The digital marketplace has redefined access to goods, services, and entertainment, creating a scenario where the physical third place is rendered unnecessary. Through platforms like Amazon, goods arrive within hours, sidestepping the once-social nature of physical shopping. Entertainment, too, has become privatized—movies, once a communal event, are now consumed from the comfort of our homes shortly after release. For many, these conveniences outweigh the spontaneity and enrichment that traditional third places offered. Simultaneously, as we deepen our digital engagements, from social media to emerging metaverses, virtual interactions have become compelling alternatives to physical gatherings, appealing especially to those seeking highly curated and often self-affirming experiences.
Yet the notion of third places as virtual is complex. The metaverse, by design, offers a semblance of community—a network where individuals can find others with shared interests across vast geographies. While it can connect you, who might be reading this while eating El Bagel in sunny Miami, to someone who’s simultaneously partying in an underground club in Lisbon, the virtual third place is often fractured and curated, narrowing interaction to algorithmically approved commonalities. So, if you’re surrounded (virtually) by like-minded individuals, why would you ever cease bed-rotting to go out and—God forbid—socialize with people who may or may not share your interests? Since the metaverse is technically a third place, doesn’t the metaphysical become part of the solution to the resurgence of the community as a whole?
Historically, third places have reflected the fashion, music, and social trends of their time. From the jazz-influenced styles of 1920s speakeasies to the looks of ‘70s disco clubs, these environments have been inseparable from their cultural backdrops. Places like speakeasies, diners, dance halls, bookstores, and co-working cafes have served as social pillars in their respective decades. Today, platforms like TikTok have a sneaky way of introducing trends around community and style in quick, digestible formats. As the concept of the third place gains renewed cultural interest, new forms are emerging. We see this in Timothée Chalamet look-alike competitions, moviegoers dressing as characters for screenings, pop-ups centered on micro-communities, and people joining niche workout clubs with cool but insanely unnecessary amenities. By gravitating toward curated micro-communities that resonate with personal interests, people are quietly reviving the third place.
Run clubs, for instance, serve as a popular contemporary third place, where participants transcend fitness goals, finding shared experiences and connections that extend beyond the pavement. In cities like Miami, these clubs have become social hubs where people gather not only to exercise but also to socialize, even replacing dating apps for many. Starting innocently as a place to run as a community, people now gather for cocktails after their weekly five-mile runs. Luckily for Miamians, there is a plethora of run clubs, Miami Design District pop-ups, and niche coffee shops to choose from. Organizations like Third Spaces Miami curate local happenings, from art shows to pop-up markets, meeting the city’s need for accessible, intentional spaces. It has been deemed the Instagram page to visit when your friends flake for drinks at Cote. As founder Dani Pinzon explains, Third Spaces Miami allows locals to discover community-driven events, providing a gateway to explore their city in a way that nurtures deeper connections. “Miami lacks traditional third spaces, so we’ve had to create our own through independent, community-run events. I’ve appreciated these spaces and how they act as a mechanism for finding my own identity through the interconnections between other people in the space. Whether it’s going to a local art exhibition, drum ‘n bass party, or a vintage market, these spaces help people explore their interests and give them a chance to engage with like-minded individuals outside the noise of everyday life. Through @thirdspacemiami, we hope to amplify accessible experiences for everyone in the city. We deserve to have community and feel that we can recognize familiar faces in bigger crowds. We don’t have to be strangers if we don’t want to. We have to remember to be pro-social—saying hi, gracing people with smiles, introducing ourselves, and not being afraid of making small talk. The purpose of a third space is to eventually grow in them and be a part of the community that it houses.”
As we navigate the evolution of third places, it’s clear that these environments—physical or virtual—reflect the culture and values of our time. In our era of hyper-connected isolation, community-focused spaces remain vital for society’s health. Whether in the form of an IRL run club or an online art community, third places shape how we experience community, how we interact with one another, and ultimately, how we see ourselves in the world. As the old guard of third places gives way to new, reimagined forms, it’s up to us to decide which places will prevail in our communities and define the culture of our time.