Gen Z Diary: I’m not someone who experiences FOMO but Electric Picnic is different

Jane Cowan: "To calm my nerves, I looked up the date that tickets for next year’s Electric Picnic are going on sale. No surprise, it’s this Tuesday: The day after everyone will get home from this year’s event."

The last weekend in August is a significant occasion in a young person’s social calendar. If it wasn’t for this week-end, Co Laois would be resigned to the same fate as Longford or Roscommon: Places you could easily go a lifetime without visiting.

I’ve never met someone who’s actually from Laois. To be honest, I’m not totally convinced people live there year-round. But I do know that practically every person in my life has been there. The reason for that is, of course, Electric Picnic. The one weekend of the year where every young person up and down this island becomes a Bear Grylls enthusiast, all in the name of music and cans with their friends.

To my great shame, I have never been to Electric Picnic. Until recently, I didn’t think the festival life was for me. It was only after taking a chance on All Together Now in July that I realised I am actually a festival fanatic. Unfortunately, my realisation came too late. The festival has long been sold out. Our forebears like to think that Gen Z spends all their money on avocado smoothies and flat whites with oat milk; if only they knew how much we’re willing to spend to be rained on in a fake county for three days.

Because between the price of tickets, tents, camping chairs, festival outfits, and three days of alcohol and hot dogs, every Irish person under 25 is currently budgeting for a month of hunger come September. And they’re happy to do it. 

Money comes back. But joints that can walk 30,000 steps a day, refuel with beer, dance all night, sleep on the ground, rinse, and repeat? We haven’t long to enjoy that privilege.

For the past two months, my Instagram feed has been flooded with posts of people begging for Electric Picnic tickets. You’d swear we need an organ transplant, the way we talk about it. But if there is one thing you need to understand about today’s young people, it’s that wanting to be at the thing that everyone is going to is more complicated than it used to be. It’s not just that I won’t get to be there. It’s also that I’ll have to see pictures and videos of exactly what I’m missing out on, every time I open Instagram. Even after the festival has started, people will remain naively hopeful that a last-minute ticket will land in their lap.

My preoccupation with missing Electric Picnic this year has kind of surprised me. I’m not someone who usually experiences FOMO. But this weekend is different. I’m not just missing out on something my friends are doing. I’m missing out on something every young person in Ireland is doing. I think I might be the only 22-year-old in the country without any need for a pair of glittery wellies this weekend. And I’m finding it deeply troubling.

I know, I know. People like to accuse young people today of being snowflakes. They tell us we lack resilience, that we don’t know what real struggle is. We started being able to ask ChatGPT to write a three-sentence email to save us the trouble, and we lost track of the real world. Back in our parents’ day, they couldn’t even listen to music. They were too busy memorising maps and restaurant menus to get them through the day. And I’m probably not giving us great PR here, writing about my Electric Picnic FOMO. But this is just an accurate representation of what my Instagram feed has sounded like for the past month, shameless obsessing over Electric Picnic tickets. Can you blame me?

To calm my nerves, I looked up the date that tickets for next year’s Electric Picnic are going on sale. No surprise, it’s this Tuesday: The day after everyone will get home from this year’s event. Oh, those blasted marketing people know exactly what they’re doing. Preying on me in my weakest moment. Everyone that’s about to spend this weekend sick with envy, watching Electric Picnic 2026 through Instagram stories, will be more than willing to throw money at the problem.

I’ll happily fork out a few hundred euro on Tuesday to avoid reliving this experience next year. Right now, I would probably give a kidney for someone to get me to Stradbally in time for Fontaines DC. If anyone has suddenly broken their leg and won’t be needing their ticket, feel free to contact me any way you want. I wish I was joking. Please. It’s for my mental health.