Why Co-Living Is Becoming the New Normal for Professionals Under 35

The other night at a friend’s apartment (a three-bedroom walk-up in Crown Heights), I met a UX designer, a data analyst, and a social worker arguing (gently) over who forgot to Venmo for the last paper towel run. Everyone had a job. Everyone paid taxes. And yet, everyone also shared a bathroom.

This wasn’t a post-grad crash pad. This was co-living in 2025, and for a growing number of professionals under 35, it’s not just normal. It’s necessary.

Co-living, once the domain of college students and Craigslist roulette, has grown up, dressed itself in sleek branding, and is now being marketed to working adults with decent incomes and high rent burdens. The pitch is clean: flexible leases, move-in-ready spaces, and built-in “community.” You can live like a grown-up, just one with shared cleaning duties and no living room of your own.

Startups like Common, Roomrs, and Platuni are leading the charge, offering curated roommate matches, move-in support, and digital-first platforms that reframe shared housing as a smart, modern solution. Platuni, in particular, has zeroed in on the individual renter: not just finding a room, but finding a roommate who fits your lifestyle, schedule, and budget. It's matchmaking, but for rent stability.

But behind the slick branding is a much less romantic truth: co-living isn’t taking off because people want less space. It’s taking off because space is no longer affordable.

Even with a “good job,” many young professionals simply can’t justify, or swing, the cost of living alone in major cities. In Manhattan, the average rent for a one-bedroom has passed $4,300. In L.A., it’s close to $3,000. In many metros, even studio apartments are out of reach unless you’re willing to sacrifice half your income or move an hour outside city limits.

So the roommate, once considered a temporary inconvenience, has been rebranded as a lifestyle choice. But make no mistake: the driving force behind the co-living boom isn’t aesthetics. It’s economics.

The Numbers Don’t Lie: Independence Is Too Expensive

At some point, the math just stopped working. Rent climbed, salaries plateaued, and the idea of living alone became, for many under 35, a luxury item, like a parking spot or a closet that fits more than three coats. Most young renters don’t live alone. In 2023, around 6.8 million U.S. households shared housing with non-relatives, and young adults make up a substantial portion of that growth.

It’s not that Gen Z and younger millennials don’t value independence; they just can’t afford to buy it. A 2025 study from Harvard’s Joint Center for Housing Studies noted that solo renters under 35 face a rental market that’s priced for dual incomes or tech salaries. And with rising costs of living (groceries, transportation, insurance), living alone doesn’t just feel financially risky. It feels irresponsible.

The result: co-living is increasingly seen less as a fallback and more as the rational choice when solo isn’t a feasible financial option.

What platforms like Platuni have figured out is that people don’t just need roommates, they need alignment. Roommate hunting has evolved from a last-minute scramble to something closer to dating: values, lifestyles, schedules, and even cleaning habits are factored in. Platuni’s model reflects that shift. It doesn’t just match people with open rooms; it helps them filter for fit, because if you're going to share a fridge and a Wi-Fi password, you might as well do it with someone whose idea of "quiet hours" aligns with yours.

Co-living isn’t new. What’s new is the clarity with which people are choosing it. Not because it’s ideal, but because it’s the only option that doesn’t require financial gymnastics just to stay in the city they work in.

So while developers slap the word “community” onto every floor plan without a door, and social feeds glamorize shared living with #adulting content and plant-filled kitchens, the economics are still blunt: in 2025, sharing rent is survival. Everything else is branding.

What It Says About Adulthood Now

There was a time when adulthood came with a checklist: move out, get a job, live alone, eventually buy a home. Privacy was proof of progress. A lease in your name meant you'd arrived. But somewhere between the Great Recession, a pandemic, and the slow unraveling of the housing market, that checklist started to feel outdated (if not entirely irrelevant).

Co-living disrupts that script. It says that independence doesn’t have to mean isolation. That adulthood isn’t measured by square footage or mortgage applications, but by how well you navigate a system that keeps changing the rules. And for many under 35, that means redefining success around flexibility, not permanence.

In this context, co-living becomes less about “not being able to afford to live alone” and more about choosing what makes the most sense. It’s about keeping your costs down so you can invest in your career, or travel, or start a side hustle. It’s about having a built-in support system in a city that can otherwise feel transactional. And yes, sometimes it’s about splitting rent so you can still afford the gym membership, the dinner out, or the occasional Uber home.

There’s also an emotional logic at play. As traditional milestones stretch out further, marriage, homeownership, and financial stability, co-living fills a gap. It creates a version of adulthood that feels connected, dynamic, and less lonely. Even if you don’t have a partner or a house in the suburbs, you have a shared Wi-Fi password, a Sunday cleaning rotation, and someone to text when you run out of olive oil. It's not domestic bliss, but it is functional adulthood (with a group chat).

The New Shape of Freedom

For a generation raised on the promise of independence, co-living might seem like a concession. But in practice, it’s starting to look more like adaptation.

Freedom, for professionals under 35, isn’t a one-bedroom apartment with hardwood floors. It’s not tying yourself to a 12-month lease that eats half your paycheck. It’s choosing flexibility over permanence. It’s finding roommates who feel like co-conspirators in the great urban survival experiment. It’s paying less for space so you can afford a life.

The co-living boom isn’t a trend. It’s economics wrapped in community. And it’s not going away anytime soon.

So maybe the goal isn’t to outgrow co-living. Maybe the goal is to outgrow the idea that living alone is the only way to feel like an adult.