What Is A Third Place? (And Here’s Why You Should Have One)
“What can I get you, darling?”
The bartender said, sliding a paper coaster across the bar. Usually, I would have withheld an eye roll at the paternalistic comment, but the endearing term caught me off guard. It’s been so long since someone called me darling, since someone made me feel like a darling. I ordered my drink and blinked away a tear.
There was something so comforting about that moment, handing over crinkled cash in exchange for being taken care of. I wasn’t at home or at work, but I wasn’t in a new location, either—I was in my “third place.”
“A third place is a familiar spot where you connect with others, known and unknown, over a shared interest or activity.”
A third place is a familiar spot—a “local,” if you will—where you connect with others, known and unknown, over a shared interest or activity. Think: Central Perk from “Friends,” The Hub from “That ‘70s Show,” Cheers from...well, “Cheers.” Or if you were me in high school, my city’s bookstore (okay, so maybe it was a Borders across the street from the mall).
These spaces often catch us at our best—we’re not burdened by the immediate urgencies of work or the piles of laundry left to fold. They also offer up a safe place for us to show up at our worst when we need to, when we’re stressed or feeling worn down. Our only obligation is to show up, engage, and metaphorically kick our feet up with our friends and community—or alone if it’s solitude we’re after. Sounds nice, right?
But third places have increasingly become a relic from the “before times,” an era full of sharing drinks and scooching close together on dilapidated couches the color of coffee. As we navigate what life looks like through our window panes, we’re continuously reminded that something is missing. Because it is.
People Need Third Places
We all need to get out of the house, but that’s not yet possible in the same way as it was before the pandemic. And as the news looms larger and larger, we all feel a bit smaller every day. But third places shrink our world down to fit us; there, we are recognized by others in a world that often does not recognize how soft and tender we each are.
“Having a third place, where someone knows my name or at least recognizes my face, helps me stay connected and present.”
I find that having a third place, where someone knows my name or at least recognizes my face, helps me stay connected and present. It’s so easy to shut off, to feel alone in the face of everything, but sharing a smile or a kind word with a stranger reminds us to remain empathetic. It invites us to open ourselves up to external experiences, and it asks us to examine our values and how we hold them in the presence of strangers.
Third places aren’t just for extroverts, either (lord knows I’m an introvert). These locations can offer us a space to be by ourselves and read or write, while still having someone remember our drink order or compliment our haircut. It’s where we can find solitude without loneliness.
And Communities Need Them, Too
Third places are not just good for us as individuals; they add vibrancy to our communities, too. These locations are like the telephone poles covered in posters for shows, sales, and lost pets; we go to them to learn about what’s happening in our neighborhood. These are the people we shop with, vote amongst, and who we protest alongside.
“The best kind of third place is accessible and is one that invites us into close proximity with people we may not meet otherwise.”
Even back into the 18th century (and before), communities gathered in coffeehouses to exchange information and news. Cafes were dubbed “penny universities” for how they allowed experts and novices alike to share ideas and learn from one another for the price of a cup of coffee. Your rank, status, or literacy level did not matter in these spaces—third spaces can be a level playing field for all who enter.
The best kind of third place is accessible and is one that invites us into close proximity with people we may not meet otherwise. These days, third places look like a bar or cafe with an affordable happy hour, but they can also look like community meeting spaces, churches, or libraries. Particularly, these locations can be especially important for seniors and for anyone living in areas facing economic hardship. By breaking down social siloes, third spaces put people in touch.
Here’s How To Find Your Own Third Place
Third places are the nutrients of a thriving community, but COVID has depleted and deprived us of so many of these spaces. How can we even find one another again after all the isolation?
Here are a few options to can keep in mind when it’s safe for us and our communities to be together once again:
Libraries
Playgrounds (particularly if you have little ones!)
Coffee shops
Bars or pubs
A friend’s yard or patio
A dog park
Regular community cleanup groups
Group therapy
A nature reserve or state park
Book clubs
Women’s or youth shelters
Areas with free Wi-Fi (like this sample list for Los Angeles)
“Your third place should come with a sense of ease and offer respite from the world without removing you from it altogether.”
The key is to find somewhere you feel welcome. Your third place should come with a sense of ease and offer respite from the world without removing you from it altogether. And for times that it cannot offer respite, maybe it can offer you a friendly conversation, a warm beverage, or a quiet space to sort out your thoughts.
Importantly, too, is the rise of digital third places; for me, that is my community and the homes I’ve built on the intergalactic exploration game “No Man’s Sky.” For you, this could be Reddit, a group text chain with your college buddies, or an Instagram chat with like-minded people you still have yet to meet. These places are perfect for when we cannot embrace in person, but they’re also essential and valid for people who cannot afford or access many of the third places I listed above.
These days, I’m taking advantage of the precious moments I have to be in a shared space once again and cherishing those small glimpses of kindness from strangers. Strangers whose countenances gradually morph into the familiar face of a friend.
And I’m sure, when I can, to tip generously or clean up after myself to honor the people who help upkeep my sacred third place. Third places are not a place of taking, after all—they are a place of sharing.
Emily Torres is the Managing Editor at The Good Trade. Born and raised in Indiana, she studied Creative Writing and Business at Indiana University. You can usually find her in her colorful Los Angeles apartment journaling, caring for her rabbits, or gaming. Read more of her creative writing over on Notes To Self!
