Sober(ish) October: Cannabis, Clarity, and Cali Sober Vibes
Finding the balance in weed, wine, and wellness
Hey everyone,
First, a big hello to all the new subscribers! Thanks to Samantha Irby for dubbing me her ‘weed doula’ in the latest Bitches Gotta Eat—and shout out to everyone at Hall of Flowers, Sonoma Hills Farm, and Urban Leaf for giving this little newsletter a boost.
It feels a bit ironic that your arrival at a weed/witch-inclusive newsletter comes just shy of weed witching season and on the verge of Sober(ish) October when I have been doing a deep-dive of self-examination around my habits, goals, and behaviors while using less of everything. (Or maybe not. It’s not like overpromised and underdelivered or anything).
(Side note: I rolled my eyes hard at the wine industry’s latest attempt to counter the Cali Sober movement with “Come Over October.” Cringe. What, can’t make a sale without mocking people trying to improve their lives? Maybe put down the bottle and rethink the marketing strategy that’s been leaning on wine-drunk mommies and overpriced natty wines).
Whether you need cannabis to sleep, manage anxiety, spark creativity (including in the bedroom—meow!) , or ease chronic pain, there’s likely a strain for you. But, as much as I’d love to recommend weed for everything, not everyone can (or should) use it. Some people react badly, some need to stay sober, and some just aren’t into it. And guess what? That’s totally fine.
Samantha’s newsletter reminded me of something important: even for those of us who love weed, it doesn’t always work forever. People’s relationships with substances change—including mine. Some people find themselves turning to cannabis for the first time, while others (like me) realize their tolerance has hit a wall, and suddenly, it’s not doing what it used to.
It’s safe to say that two decades of experimenting with substances as a human guinea pig for work and self-exploration take a toll on my personal consumption habits. When the highs start to feel less magical and more like routine, it’s usually a sign for me to step back. After all, I don’t have chronic pain that necessitates it, so why keep pushing the habit if it’s not serving me?
And let’s be real—our relationships are changing because weed isn’t the same anymore. Strains come and go, often re-engineered into “flavors” that barely resemble their origins or the natural benefits of terpenes (a major reason why I’m a proponent of sun grown bud from small producers). The cannabis world moves fast, and while I’ve always loved exploring new products, I no longer feel the need to be on top of every strain or edible—particularly when so many just don’t hit the mark with quality ingredients or care of production. Unless it’s a rare heirloom strain or edibles that can stand on their own without the infusion that’s truly worth seeking out, I’m happy turning down products that don’t meet my standards.
Weed astrology was fun, but as consistent strains become harder to find, so does making recommendations. This heirloom seed scarcity issue is one that agriculture faces as a whole beyond the cannabis industry—a connection more people should make, especially if they care about climate change, food inequity, or the quality of agriculture they consume. But here I am, one of the few talking about it, constantly dodging shadow bans for daring to mention “cannabis” online and an unpopular talking head among the majority of brands that simply do not give a shit about anything beyond pushing products and making money.
The real reason for my current self-imposed break, though? I became a Pilates teacher. It’s a practice that demands a mind-body connection, and while weed is great for recovery, it doesn’t always help with focus or memory retention (two things I’m working on improving more than my tolerance).
A few months ago, I went out with someone sober and who has been in AA for five years. While I hadn’t been looking for it, honestly, I found that really attractive. There was something sexy about someone who takes responsibility for themselves and is fully present, especially in a time when so many people seem so checked out and resentful about accountability. I was instantly smitten—enough to be charmed by someone operating on a completely different wavelength in every sense—but it was also a catalyst for rethinking everything.
The next day, I went out with someone else who fit into the lifestyle I’ve always known—wine, pasta, all the indulgences—and it just felt… dull. I got home, felt sick, and started questioning my own relationship with substances and the people I share them with.
When I gushed about my sober crush to friends, I got the usual “I could never date someone sober” comments, followed by tales of their latest drunken nights that suddenly felt less relatable or interesting.
It hit me: I was craving more genuine connections and I wasn’t finding them through the shared use of substances. Weed started feeling like a way to avoid real conversations and human interaction, which led to some interesting breakthroughs in therapy—hello, C-PTSD.
I realized that I didn’t need to hit rock bottom or join AA to make a lifestyle change. In fact, Sam Bail’s journey to sobriety shared in the latest Anti-Hangover Drinking Club newsletter shows a much more natural evolution that’s becoming the norm. It sparked the creation of Third Place Bar Events, a series of alcohol-free gatherings in NYC, highlighting a growing trend of social alternatives without the pressure to drink that doesn’t center addiction or religion.
This N/A movement feels different from past temperance efforts. Today, it’s about self-improvement—less hangovers, fewer mistakes, a healthier approach to mindfulness. Most sober folks I talk to are indifferent to others’ habits; they’ve just outgrown it themselves.
Some of my favorite recent finds come from the sober(ish) world: Julia Bainbridge’s non-alcoholic cocktail book Good Drinks, Moshe Kasher’s musings on AA in Subculture Vulture, the zero-proof sparkling brut rosé from Domaine Montrose. Not to mention the aforementioned rise of alcohol-free social spaces that aren’t just AA meetings or coffee shops—a relatively new phenomenon unless you live in Utah.
But, like the cannabis movement, sobriety isn’t immune to criticism. People are uncomfortable with reflection, and both movements force us to look at our own relationships with substances. For many, that can be a tough mirror to face.
This isn’t about giving up substances entirely (I just picked up some fire NorCal bud and this really incredible chardonnay from the Sonoma Coast at Pax Winery). But it is about rethinking why I use substances. Are they helping me connect with people or keeping me stuck in old habits?
These days, cannabis feels a little too impersonal, more business than pleasure. Remember when a joint used to feel like a spiritual act? Today, cannabis culture has lost a lot of its magic from a genuine subculture to mainstream capitalistic opportunity, and many legacy users, myself included, feel the loss.
Enter: the hospitality industry, which stands to make the largest impact on shaping the future of how we think about and consume these products. The industry tends to attract individuals with the heart, passion, and drive to make incredible things happen and think creatively about taking care of others. That includes the art of providing seamlessly safe service through proper dosing and education to become ‘weed doulas’ themselves.
I recently spoke at a panel at Hall of Flowers about the ‘Sommelier of the Future’ alongside The Herb Somm Jamie Evans, master sommelier Ian Cauble of Vyne, and Claudio Miranda of Budist where we explored strategies for how cannabis can merge within mainstream hospitality. The conversation touched on the Cali Sober movement, how it’s pushing alcohol companies to produce better zero-proof options, and how cannabis dining doesn’t have to be a marathon of high doses. Sometimes, less is more; but quality is always paramount.
If one of the oldest rose producers in the Languedoc can develop an alcohol-free sparkling brut rose that leverages estate grapes and minimal residual sugar to match the expectations of their legacy wines and award-winning craft breweries can adapt to include seltzers and non-alcoholic beers worthy of their fan approval, the alcohol industry should evolve with it. Producers need to judging their customers leaving for drier shores and meet them where they’re at—they’ll be better for it.
Ultimately, I still have a lot of love for weed, but my approach has shifted. It’s about balance, intention, and staying connected to what matters. Over the past few months, I’ve been bouncing around Michigan, California, and upstate New York, soaking up new experiences, reconnecting with friends, and finding joy in the small things. But let’s be real—life has been stressful. Climate change, the pandemic’s aftermath, economic uncertainty, war, politics… It’s hard not to carry all of that with you, even when you’re just trying to relax.
Sometimes, it feels like the world is burning, and the instinct is to reach for a joint and tune out. But lately, I’m more interested in tuning in—to myself, my goals, and my connections. Weed helps, but it’s not the solution to everything. And that’s okay.
Here’s to finding balance, staying curious, and keeping it real. (And yes, I’m still smoking the good stuff—just a little more thoughtfully these days).
MORE FROM PIPE DREAMS BY THE WEED WITCH
Consumption Lounge: Spark Joy This September
I Joined A Cult and It Was Fine
Welcome to the The Weed Witch coven. If you liked this post, click the heart button below and consider upgrading to a paid subscription. Fall down the wrong rabbit hole? Click here to unsubscribe.
I'm so at the same place with you with weed! We should discuss IRL! Thank you for this post.