No phone, no social safety net: welcome to the “offline club”

on cue, The room fell silent. A man sitting to my left at a long wooden table began scratching a piece of paper with a coloring pencil. To my right, another man picked up a book. On the other side of the road, someone buried themselves in the mystery. We have gathered to participate in an uncommon ritual: to be very Offline.

At 6:45 that Monday evening I arrived at an ordinary office building in Dalston, a newly aristocratic area of ​​East London. I was greeted at the door by the event host, who was wearing a t-shirt that said “The Offline Club.” I handed them my phone, which they stored in a specially designed locker — like a miniature capsule hotel.

The entrance opens into a narrow room with high concrete walls painted white, capable of seating about 40 people. The wooden table ran down the middle of the room, surrounding the sofa area and the small kitchen filled with herbal tea and other drinks. Two plywood stairs lead to a mezzanine covered with patterned fabric cushions and fitted with soft lighting. On the opposite wall, floor-to-ceiling windows were lined with ficuses and other broadleaf plants.

Attendees began to arrive and left their phones at the door. Their ages ranged from approximately 25 to 40 years, equally divided between genders. The collective wardrobe had the hallmarks of a British winter – wool knitwear, corduroy, Chelsea boots, etc. – but with a modern twist typical of this part of town: a tattoo here, a turtleneck there. Many people came alone and easily engaged in conversation; I met a video producer, insurance claims adjuster, and, ironically, a software engineer for a major social media company. Others were more reserved, perhaps more attuned to the strangeness of the social occasion.

The group had a common ambition: to disconnect from their devices, even if only for a short time. The Offline Club organizes similar phone-free events across Europe, and charges a fee of about $17 to enter. Starting last year, hangouts in London began regularly selling out.

“We talk about it as a gentle rebellion,” says Laura Wilson, co-host of the Offline Club’s London chapter. “Anytime you’re not on your phone, you’re asking for your money back.”

Soon there was nothing but an empty chair, bench, or cushion in the room. The host indicated that it was time to stop talking. Following the example of others, I picked up a crayon and began scribbling with a clumsy and inexperienced hand.

“I feel like I’m addicted to my phone”

The Offline Club kicked off 2021 with an impromptu off-the-grid weekend in the Dutch countryside organized by Elijah Knebelhout, Jordi van Bennekon and Valentin Kloel. Finding the experience useful, the trio began hosting irregular getaways in the Netherlands with the aim of kindling the kind of casual interaction between strangers that they felt was now rare in a world ruled by devices.

The three Dutchmen officially founded the Offline Club in February 2024 and began hosting hangouts in an Amsterdam café. Since then, they have exported the concept to 19 other cities, mostly in Europe, where each branch is run like a franchise by part-time organizers. Events typically follow a set format: an hour of silence, during which people are free to do whatever they want — reading, doing puzzles, coloring, crafts, etc. — followed by an hour of phone-free conversation with other attendees.

The format took off in London last summer, after the local chapter attempted to set an unofficial world record by gathering 2,000 people at the top of Primrose Hill, central London. The goal was to watch the sunset without a swaying sea of ​​phones to block the view. After that, people started buying tickets to the hangouts.