When Sarah, a young bank worker in her early twenties, was invited to her friend’s hen do abroad, she was thrilled — until she saw the price tag: £2,500 for a shared Airbnb room. Hoping for understanding, she voiced her concerns to the bride-to-be. The reply — that she could simply put it on a credit card — left her mortified. Ultimately, Sarah bowed out of the trip, left questioning whether the financial expectations surrounding friendship had spiralled beyond reason.
Her experience highlights a growing phenomenon dubbed “friendflation”: the rising cost of maintaining social ties and participating in friends’ celebrations. Once limited to small gatherings, hen and stag dos have morphed into multi-day extravaganzas, often abroad, with costs that leave many struggling to keep up.
Recent surveys underscore the financial strain. According to research by Creditspring, the average cost of attending a UK wedding is now £450 per guest, rising to £700 for those aged 25 to 34. One in five reported spending as much as £1,500 per celebration. The Financial Times has also covered the issue of spiralling costs in social life, reflecting a wider debate on the pressures faced by younger generations. For pre-wedding events, the numbers are even more stark: Aviva estimates the average stag or hen weekend costs £779, climbing to £1,200 overseas. By comparison, estimates from 2008 put the figure at just £100.
The pressures are not unique to Britain. In the US, a 2025 survey by Self Financial found that nearly 80 per cent of respondents had experienced financial anxiety when socialising with friends, while 43 per cent admitted finding it “difficult” to maintain friendships with significantly wealthier peers. In Australia, some have even ended friendships entirely, unable to match escalating social expenses.
Experts say the phenomenon reflects broader shifts in spending habits. Elizabeth Currid-Halkett, professor and author of The Sum of Small Things, argues that since the 2008 financial crisis, higher-income groups have increasingly prioritised experiences — such as travel, dining, and cultural activities — over material goods. This trend has trickled down, she explains, embedding costly social experiences into friendship itself.
The pandemic appears to have reinforced the pattern, as people placed renewed value on “living full lives” and sought to celebrate connections through big-ticket events. Meanwhile, the rise of social media has amplified the visibility — and competitiveness — of these gatherings. “We live in a world where we see everybody’s highlights reel,” notes financial therapist Bill Nelson. The pressure to keep up has only intensified.
Compounding the problem is what communications scholar Jeffrey Hall calls the decline of “third spaces” — public places like parks or community halls where friends could meet without spending money. With fewer free spaces to gather, socialising has shifted to commercial venues and trips, raising the baseline cost of maintaining friendships.
Underlying it all are questions of inequality. As friends’ careers diverge, so too do their disposable incomes. Yet money remains one of the “unspoken” topics of friendship. A study by the UK’s Money and Pensions Service found that 55 per cent of adults do not feel comfortable discussing their financial situation, making it harder to signal when costs are unaffordable. As Hall puts it: “Our friendship thrives and grows because we never mention our differences.”
For some, this silence leads to quiet resentment, or even fractured friendships. Yet Nelson argues that transparency and empathy are key. “Don’t prejudge, don’t assume, and always lead with empathy when discussing financially related matters with friends,” he advises.
While money may not buy friendship, in today’s climate, it increasingly seems to be the price of keeping it.
