For some time now, we have been mercilessly and relentlessly losing the possibility of living alone because of the price of rents. The result is a kind of compulsory prolonged adolescence, which already affects those who are already in their forties.
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We were twenty, with ridiculous salaries, unpredictable jobs, irregular hours, tables with cleaning crews on the refrigerator (a triumph of youthful optimism), three music players playing different content simultaneously, a bookcase full of single, finished books, some repeated, a shelf in the refrigerator itself with a tetris of food, poor quality pots in which it was impossible to make a good omelette, small beds, poor quality pillows, cramped bathrooms, hot water that was lacking with a shower, waiting in the hallway to go to the toilet. None of this mattered because we were twenty years old. None of this mattered because we were living with friends for the first time and the experience, despite all the discomfort, was absolutely stimulating. Far from seeking intimacy, we avoided it.
Last Friday, Pantomima Full published a video that brilliantly describes how the housing problem no longer only engulfs Generation Z, but also and always the millennials of Gran Reserva, the old millennials, those who, at this stage of life, should own an apartment with framed photos in the hall. The image of Rober Bodegas telling a roommate that he can go to the bathroom, because in shared apartments you can only enter the bathroom when the other leaves, as in ministries, is of a devastating reality. For some time now, we have been mercilessly and relentlessly losing the possibility of living alone because of the price of rents. The result is a kind of compulsory prolonged adolescence, which already affects those who are entering their forties.
Beyond the impact on mental health, life expectancy, birth rates, social relationships and many other issues, this also has obvious repercussions on the economy, particularly in terms of people’s ability to be as mobile as some jobs usually require. There are professionals who refuse jobs in certain cities because, quite simply, they cannot live there without sharing (infra)housing.
Of course, sharing an apartment at thirty is not the same as at twenty: there is more order, more cleanliness, people go to bed early, plants live more than a week, even more than a month, coffee is prepared from the beginning of the hour, you do not need to write your name with a marker on the milk container, you do not have to fear for the integrity of your cupboard when you leave for a few days. For some, the experience of sharing continues to be attractive after the twenties, but let us not romanticize precariousness, let us not give it ridiculous Anglo-Saxon labels (forty shared accommodations!) to mask the reality: sharing after your twenties is always an experience imposed by the circumstances of the real estate market and not sought after.
In this frustration, in this vital stagnation, there is an enormous political opportunity that parties like Alvise’s are already capitalizing on. The housing crisis is going to be politically decisive in the coming years. Because the patience of not one, but two generations is about to run out, like toilet paper in a shared apartment.
