Hey, welcome back to the 10s.

Sticky red cup in hand. An ill-fitting pleather jacket or cardigan over a V-neck statement tee. Your friends are all here. And somehow, everyone is actually dancing. (What a concept.)

The soundtrack is angsty, loud, and blown out; 2010s pop anthems, ripping bloghouse, hip-hop singalongs, golden-era EDM bangers, and the indie tracks you forgot you knew every word to.

Tonight is all that matters.

Put on your skinny jeans. Lace up your Converse. Turn the iPhone off.

This is a love letter to the house parties of yesteryear, with the speakers cranked to 11, sticky floors, and absolutely no neighbors coming to shut it down.

It's not nostalgia.

It's muscle memory.