Back in my real estate days, I specialized in public realm activation.

👉 “Um. Kristin. What the hell is public realm activation?”

Fair question. It’s industry jargon that means “designing public spaces (like town centers, plazas, and urban parks) in a way that makes humans want to stop, spend time there, and interact with other humans.”

And it was while I was working my little tail off activating public realms all over NYC that I first encountered the term “third place”.

👉 Even the tiniest amount of friction will trap someone at home, ordering DoorDash, doomscrolling TikTok, and buying a “new hobby” on Amazon.

👉 Starbucks can’t fix it. But you can.

And now — the story behind why this advice matters. 👇

Again, fair question. And I promise this is the last bit of jargon I’ll throw at you. It goes like this:

For some, it might be their church, for others, it might be a pub –Norm! 🍺–, and for me, it’s typically been an ice rink, a dance studio, or… a circus gym. (Seriously. For two years, I spent my free time “flying through the air with the greatest of ease”, while making lifelong friends.) 👇

Third places play a vital sociological role. They deliver social connection, a sense of belonging, and critical relief from our responsibilities at home and work.

But they’re dying. ☠️

And they’ve been dying for a long time.

The term “third place” was coined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg in his 1989 book The Great Good Place, where he defined third places as neutral, low-cost, accessible hangouts, centered around human-to-human connection.

And nearly 40 years ago, he pointed to the unintended consequences of mid-century suburban sprawl for their decline. As people fled cities for bigger living spaces in the ‘burbs, the requirement to commune over shared interests dissipated:

Y’all — our modern obsession with screens, and pandemic-era isolation, wasn’t even yet a glimmer in its daddy’s eye. 

Despite that, Oldenburg‘s research from the 1980s was already warning that the vital social infrastructure which had been fueling humanity since (as my favorite economics professor, Ed Glaeser, puts it) “Socrates and Plato bickered on an Athenian street corner”, was in steep decline.

So if the situation was sticky back then, it’s a putrid pile of gak now:

Our culture is quickly removing every reason we’ve ever had to interact with other humans in the real world.

Oldenburg’s research echoes political scientist Robert D. Putnam’s Bowling Alone essay from 1995 (later expanded into a book and a documentary, which you should 100% check out). 

One oddly specific stat — that bowling participation had grown, but bowling leagues had declined, indicating that people were now “bowling alone” rather than with each other — sparked an obsession curiosity in Putnam to examine where else this phenomenon might be taking place.

The answer? Damn near everywhere.

From PTAs & church choirs, to Scouts & Shriners — pretty much every organized social, recreational, or civic group that fosters regular in-person connection had sharply dropped from its mid-century peak.

So why should we give a shit about this? And WTF is a Shriner?

Putnam argues that these organizations create “social capital” (a fancy term for trusting your damn neighbor), which positively impacts everything from our health, to our economy, to the resilience of our communities.

And I agree with him. 👏

*Steps off soap box*

If you’ve seen the term “third place” this year, it might be because Starbucks’ newest CEO has been shouting from the rooftops that he’s positioning the brand to “reclaim the third place”. But frankly, Howard Schultz has been touting that BS since the 90s.

It didn’t work then. And it won’t work now.

Because a third place isn’t an overstuffed chair where you can linger over a latte while hunched over your Macbook with T-Swift thumping in your AirPods. That’s just a pumpkin-spiced-environment for people to do the SAME SHIT they do in their first place (home) and second place (work).

That positioning isn’t about competing with other coffee joints, or even other gathering places. 

It’s about competing with your couch. And it’s a losing battle.

Last week, I was in Philadelphia exploring my (soon to be) new neighborhood when I stumbled upon a really cool business — a darts club.

I immediately envisioned rocking up every Thursday night for “neighborhood darts”, or even joining a beginners league where my teammates would appreciate me more for my jokes, and my enthusiastic willingness to buy another round of beers, than my throwing skills. 🍻

What a fantastic way to meet people in my new community!

Nope.

This place was designed for me to, as Putnam would probably put it, “throw darts alone” (or with people I already know, in a space that I reserved in advance).

This presents friction:

…without benefits like meeting people in my neighborhood, or building a relaxing ritual around a social activity.

So what is the benefit?... Darts? 

If that’s the case, I can remove all of the friction by ordering a dartboard off Amazon for the one-time-ultra-low-price of $59, hanging it on the back of my apartment door, and throwing darts whenever I damn well please.

This darts club thinks it’s competing with other bars in the neighborhood (based on its Google Ads). 

But it’s not. It’s competing with Amazon.

I’ve been bullish on the “community” space for a long time. Hell, one of my businesses is a community for entrepreneurs.

But I think the heat is really turning up now. 🔥

Between AI girlfriends, dopamine-drip social feeds engineered to trap people into scrolling instead of socializing, and delivery apps that eliminate every reason to ever step outside — now is the time to carve out a unique position in the upswing of community connection.

(Because I’m an optimist. And I truly believe there will be an upswing.)

But you have to take your head out of your ass first.

If my new neighborhood darts club were to hire the doe-eyed MBAs of McKinsey to perform a strategic assessment of their business, it would probably look something like this:

On the surface, that may appear to be true. But it’s the equivalent of Starbucks deploying overstuffed chairs and soft Edison lighting across their stores, and claiming “mission accomplished”.

Because it ignores what the cross-section of Oldenburg and Putnam’s research reveals:

👏 Communities thrive when people are routinely guided to connect with each other, face-to-face, with as little friction as possible.

Even the tiniest lack of guidance and routine, or introduction of friction, will trap someone at home, ordering DoorDash, doomscrolling TikTok, and buying a “new hobby” on Amazon.

As you examine how your own business (or one that you plan to start) might participate in the upswing of human-to-human connection, don’t settle for surface-level bullshit.

I predict that the businesses who master this will rake in customers, loyalty, and a shit-ton of money.

And we’ll all benefit.

-Kristin 🍻