HOLLY WAINWRIGHT: 'You're getting up earlier. There's a reason for it.'

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What time, though?

What time does your alarm go off in the morning?

Some of you will be laughing at that question. Alarm, you say? Seriously? For them, a baby wail, a kid's finger in the eye, a dog's paw to the neck has made the banal bleat of a phone redundant.

For many more, the idea the time you wake up might be a choice, and not a requirement for a shift-start, a boss's demand, or a cow in need of milking, is laughable.

But if and when you get to decide, what do you decide? For many, many, many people, that number is getting earlier, and earlier, thanks to something called Dawn Culture.

Listen: Em, Jessie and Holly discuss the rise of 'Dawn Culture' on Mamamia Out Loud. Post continues below.

What's Dawn Culture?

Well, it's hundreds of Gen Z and Ys pounding the beach paths of coastal cities at 6am. It's catching up for a walk and coffee before work, rather than a drink after it. It's Morning Raves in coffee shops, sunrise yoga and open-water swimming before the water turns from inky black to blue. It's savvy brands deciding to plop their "pop-ups" where the morning people are, rather than the lunchtime crowd, or the cocktail crew.

Just this past week, a dance party called Morning People kicked off in Sydney, a before-work, alcohol-free, DJ-hosted party that is NOT for people who haven't been to bed yet. And tabloid headlines yelled about mobs of hot young people in lycra clogging up Bondi Beach for the twice-weekly Run Club. Start time 5.30am. Fifty-thousand people follow that club on Instagram.

Being a Morning Person has always been virtuous. But until the last few years, it wasn't cool.

Night people were cool, living in celebrated cities that never slept. Now what's cool is doing a nocturnal 9-5 — pm to am — and starting the day with grind, gossip and salutes to the sun.

Me? I'm Dawn Culture adjacent. Before I had my kids, I was a sleeper-in. I remember as a late teen thinking I was winning if I ate my breakfast in front of the EastEnders Sunday omnibus, which started at 2pm.

But after over a decade of being blessed by children who STILL don't sleep past 6am, I have changed, and I've come to love it. My alarm goes off any time between 5 and 6.30am, depending on whether I'm commuting, or exercising, or just sorting the kids out for school and lunches before it's dog-walk time. It's the only time of day exercise can be guaranteed to happen, for me, who is mystified by night-time gym-goers.

I like the peace, I like the light, I like the cool.

Watch: The earliest rising city in the world is right here in Australia. Post continues below.

But the problem with the dawn of Dawn Culture is — like anything you love that suddenly becomes incredibly popular — other people ruin things. A peaceful meditative sunrise is tainted by the chatter of a coffee-guzzling horde, or the thunder of thousands of trainer-wearing feet, vying for a PB.

I lived close to a Sydney beach for 20 years and for most of those, if you were on the sand at 6am, it was because you hadn't been to bed yet, or had psyched yourself up for a Boot Camp torture. Now, it's the busiest time of day.

There are many theories about why. Gen Z are healthier than their crusty older counterparts. They drink less, are more health conscious, and aware of the benefits on their mental health of starting the day "with intention." And, as mentioned, early mornings are virtuous, and belong to those unencumbered by hangovers. Sunrises are photogenic, and we live to document our most picturesque moments.

Gathering outside is free, at a time when dinners and cocktails are decidedly not.

We discussed this shift on Mamamia Out Loud on Friday, and Jessie thinks Dawn Culture might also be about Climate Change (way to lighten the mood). That it's getting too hot to be out in the sun later in the day. Em says that whatever's causing it, it's ruining her social life, because she won't get up before 8.30 (and that's on a work day) but now all her mates want coffees at 7.

Read more from Holly:

• HOLLY WAINWRIGHT: 'These breasts have been sent to confuse us.'

• HOLLY WAINWRIGHT: Nothing cures creative block like discovering your husband's secret sex lair.

• HOLLY WAINWRIGHT: Only Andrew, just Sarah and a teenage 'nobody' who rewrote royal history.

Feature image: Supplied.